The Stirring
by Nilsia-Tengun
Summary: Strange things are happening to Róisín, a final year Ravenclaw student. When told that under no circumstance can He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named realise who she is, everything gets a lot more complicated. And awkward. Will Severus Snape be the only one able to help? Rated M for language and sexual content.
1. Quidditch Practice

**A/N: Hi guys! This story centres around a 7th year Ravenclaw student, Róisín Feral.**

 **Snape is 35 (so keep in mind he is much younger than he appears in the films).**

 **Everything is the same as canon until Harry's fifth year (Sept 1995) which is when the story starts. It is rated Mature because there will be explicit scenes in future chapters.**

 **Of course anything you recognise belongs to the inspiring J.K Rowling.**

 _ **Italics are Róisín's thoughts (or spoken incantations).**_

* * *

Róisín pressed her thighs together and shuddered. Roman Jacquet's broad back blocked her view of Professor McGonagall's wand movements at the top of the class. As he shifted in his seat she could see his back muscles tense and relax beneath his shirt. Exactly when had he become so muscular? Róisín shook her head, scowling, and focused on McGonagall's transfiguration. The professor's incantations had moulded the apprehensive face of Martin Brown into the head of a hare. His long ears and whiskered cheeks twitched at the buzz of excitement from the class.

Róisín paired up with her best friend and attempted to transfigure her head into that of a foxes'. Her forehead creased as she failed to remember the incantation. She sighed.

"Anna, can you go first? I'm just not with it today."

Anna's shoulders slumped with relief as Róisín lowered her wand, which had been pointed directly at her face. Anna flicked her own wand and pronounced clearly,

" _Convertere faciem tempore vultus lucustas_ "

Róisín felt her skin angle and harden and her vision blur, she was seeing double, and then triple, then thousands of Anna's bright blue eyes flickering playfully.

McGonagall's stern voice reached Róisín as if through a tunnel,

"Miss Battworth, I highly doubt that Miss Feral had bewitched your ears off before I explicitly stated that **mammalian** heads were the desired outcome; this enchantment is ill-suited for invertebrates."

The spell started to wear off as the hundreds of stiff-backed professors morphed back into one.

"Pity it didn't last, green really is your colour," Anna teased.

* * *

As the two girls walked with the rest of the 7th year Ravenclaws to the Great Hall, Róisín whispered in her friend's ear,

"Is it just me, or has Jacquet filled out _nicely_ this year?" Anna eyes shot to heaven. "I know, I know, there's definitely something up with my hormones, but **trust** me, it's annoying me more than you."

The smell of shepherd's pie leaked from the hall down the corridor and Róisín's stomach gurgled in response.

Róisín spotted Ida at the Ravenclaw table, her ivory hair glinting in the daylight that poured from the bewitched ceiling. The 7th year students had private bedrooms and Ida had hers directly opposite Róisín's. Ida was reserved, sharp-witted and exceptionally good at potions. She had been seemingly unsure of Róisín's eccentricities for the past six years and had only begun to warm to her this year.

"After lunch Eóghan said he'd let me have a go on his Moontrimmer, do you guys wanna come?" Róisín asked Ida and Anna over the steaming dishes.

"Doesn't he have a Nimbus seventeen hundred?" Anna replied.

"Yeah he does, he bought the Moontrimmer at an auction. He says it's easy to control, so it should be good for me."

"I would like to but Ida and I have to write that herbology essay. The one on the importance of unicorn manure for the longevity of the giant white oak." Anna scowled to show her enthusiasm for the topic.

"Should have dropped herbology like me." Róisín winked at the other two girls.

"Oh shut up, at least **we** don't have to remember all of Jupiter's sixty-seven moons…"

Róisín stuck out her tongue in response.

* * *

Róisín met Eóghan on the way down from Ravenclaw tower. He was in a short-sleeved t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms with his Moontrimmer and Nimbus under his arm.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Awrite an ye?" Eóghan's Edinburgh brogue made Róisín smile; it made her less conscious of her own Dublin accent.

"Yeah, I'm grand. Thanks for flying with me again."

Róisín, having had a muggle childhood, had never gotten the hang of flying. Eóghan was muggle born too, but he, on the other hand, was the captain of the house team. Róisín helped him with arithmancy in exchange for flying lessons.

"No problem, Ah think yer gettin' better." Eóghan's deep voice rolled over his "r", making Róisín's insides twitch a little. "Last time ye almost pulled off a Wronski Feint."

"Hey, stop slaggin' me, you **know** that was an accident," Róisín whined.

Eóghan's freckles scrunched up around his nose as he grinned at her.

The ground of the quidditch pitch was a patchwork quilt of autumn leaves and the hooped goal posts winked at them from the sky.

"Ok, let's try the Woollongong Shimmy. It's great fir practicin' balance." Eóghan threw her the Moontrimmer and mounted his Nimbus. Róisín could see his strong forearms flex as he grabbed his broom. "Zig-zag up and down the pitch. It's important tae remember to keep yer turns tight and yer centre of gravity close tae the broom. Ok?"

After an hour of practicing double eight loops, Mongolian trick flips and Beiriger barrel rolls Róisín was dizzy and exhausted. The two Ravenclaws descended from the sky. Eóghan jumped off his broom with finesse. Róisín landed with two much speed, tripped and fell forward.

"Are you Ok?" Eóghan trotted over to her and helped her up.

"Yeah, just banged my arm." It twinged a little, but she was flushed mainly from embarrassment.

"Can I see?" Eóghan stepped towards Róisín as she held out her arm. She was close enough to catch his scent; A mix of synthetic freshness (after-shave and magical detergent probably) along with a delicious hint of male perspiration. She breathed in as Eóghan gently examined her hand. A thought struck her, _Ogling your classmates is one thing, s_ _melling them is another._ Róisín stopped sniffing mid in-hale. "Did I hurt ye?" Eóghan asked in response.

"Oh, no, it's not painful, just a bruise." She could see his shoulder muscles from where the neck of his T-shirt dipped. They looked really good. He released her hand and grinned at her. _The smile lines around his eyes are so sexy,_ Róisín thought sinfully. She shivered with the breeze.

"You're cold," Eóghan said softly. He rubbed his hands along the outsides of her arms and Róisín shifted her weight towards him. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Her lips were cold in comparison to his, and she parted them slightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him against her. His arms encircled her and pressed tightly against her lower back. She could feel his solid body against hers. He kissed her bottom lip and then her top one. His breath, arms and chest were exquisitely warm.

She had started to kiss him back when nausea hit her stomach like a punch in the gut. She turned her face away and suddenly felt disgustingly hot. She pushed against his chest and he released her instantly, confused. She held her sides as she doubled over. _Oh god, I'm going to vomit._

"What's wrong? Did I-"

"No! I just suddenly feel… unwell. I'll go to Madam Pomfrey." Eóghan stared at her uncertainly, as if she had shape shifted into some bizarre creature. "Thanks again for the lesson," she sputtered before dashing towards the castle.

The nausea hit her in disgusting waves as she rushed through the hallways and the air felt moist as if she were in a rainforest. Finally she reached the hospital wing.

"I don't feel well."

Madam Pomfrey looked up from her examination of a student who appeared to have been hit with a well-aimed " _engorgio_ " to the nose. Róisín stood in front of her, dizzy and panting.

"Well I can see that." The matron looked Róisín up and down. "For goodness sake, lie down child before you faint."

Róisín climbed onto a spare cot and closed her eyes. The nausea had started to subside and her skin was no longer searing. _What just happened? Did someone hex me from afar? What does Eóghan think?_

Madam Pomfrey deflated the other student's nose and turned to Róisín.

"Pupils fully dilated…high fever…tremors…confusion," the matron muttered to herself as she swished her wand in complicated patterns above Róisín.

"Miss Feral, you didn't get your hands on "Ethier's Excellent Exceeds-Expectations Elixir" did you?" The nurse's voice was stern. "I know it's stashed under the beds of the more recalcitrant members of Ravenclaw house. Even freshly brewed that potion overstimulates and overwhelms far more often than it leads to Outstandings."

"No Madam." Róisín shook her head vigorously. "I don't do drugs."

"Hmph" The matron did not seem fully convinced. "Well if that's the case, tell me what happened."

"Eóghan and I went out to practice our flying. When I landed I tripped and bruised my arm." Róisín indicated the small yellow bruise beginning to form on her arm. "Then a few minutes later I suddenly felt really, really sick, as if I were going to vomit, and I felt awfully hot as well." The lines on the matron's face were etched with concern.

"Nothing else unusual happened? You didn't see anyone else, or perform any strange spells? You and Mister MacCormack didn't try out any balance enhancing charms, or resisting wind resistance incantations?"

"No, I don't remember doing anything unusual. Except… well, it happened while we were kissing."

"Kissing?"

Róisín felt as though she needed to add something.

"Yeah, just on the lips." _Where else would she think you were kissing?_ Róisín cringed.

The matron studied her carefully.

"And then you came here."

Róisín nodded.

"I'll bring you a vial of _febribus regressus_ to cool you down. You may rest here for a couple of hours and resume your studies in the evening."

Róisín drank the potion and shortly afterwards fell asleep.

* * *

That evening, Róisín met Anna half way up the spiral staircase to Ravenclaw tower.

"Hey, how come you weren't in Charms earlier?" Anna asked. Róisín told her what happened with Eóghan.

"That's weird," Anna commented.

"And the strangest thing is that I felt as if it were the kiss that made me sick, as if it weren't just a coincidence," Róisín added.

The staircase ended at a heavy walnut door carved with intricate spirals which appeared to move when you averted your eyes. In the middle of the door was a golden eagle knocker. It opened its beak and asked,

"What flies through the fun but drags through the dull?"

"Time," Anna answered.

The heavy door swung open and they stepped into the Ravenclaw common room. The airiness of the huge domed room always made an impression after climbing the hundreds of narrow steps to get to Hogwart's highest tower. Tall arched windows gave an almost three-sixty-degree view of the school grounds, and today the September sunshine shone through them making the white marble walls sparkle and the stars in the midnight blue carpet glisten underfoot. The permanent smell of books, ink and candles never failed to make Róisín feel at home.

"The riddles this week are easy, last week I was stuck for fifteen minutes until Ida let me in. You know my long division was never really any good," Anna said as she lay beside Róisín on their favourite _chaise longue_ in an alcove with a fireplace.

Eóghan came down the stairs from one of the side turrets jutting off from the main Ravenclaw tower. There were turrets for the boys' and girls' dormitories, and for several tiny libraries which somehow held endless books. The libraries in the turrets had turrets of their own until Róisín was sure their centre of gravity was no longer over the base of the castle.

"Sorry about running off earlier Eóghan, I think I had some weird fever thing," Róisín explained.

"No problem, did Pomfrey sort you oot?"

"Yeah she gave me a potion."

Eóghan sat opposite the girls and gestured to a daily prophet lying on the coffee table between them.

"What do ye think of all this?"

The front cover had printed "Why does Dumbledore hunger for war?" in thick black font accompanied by a moving picture of their headmaster striding confidently through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

"Well, my parents have always been staunch supporters of Dumbledore, but it's hard to believe that all of the wizarding media and the ministry are conspiring against him, just because Fudge is insecure," Anna said. She was pureblood and had grown up listening to the politics of the wizarding world.

"Never underestimate the lunacy of a powerful, insecure man," Róisín said.

"So, you think Fudge is lying and Dumbledore's not?" Eóghan asked, "that's not a popular opinion these days."

"Would he really pretend you-know-who were back just for a power grab? Surely that plan would break down as soon as people realised he wasn't actually back?" Róisín shrugged and continued somberly, "I haven't read too much about the previous rise of you-know-who, but I get the impression that if he's back, we'll know soon enough."

"Although, all the stuff with Dumbledore and Potter is weird, right?" Anna cut in. "Remember when he was in first year, Potter saved the school from Quirrell, and then from the Basilisk? And last year he won the Triwizard Tournament and faced you-know-who _again._ I grew up believing Dumbledore was the most brilliant wizard in the world, yet we are always saved by the same preteen boy, with Dumbledore nowhere to be seen!"

* * *

That night Róisín twisted herself into a knot around her bedsheets. Worries swarmed around her head like ugly summer flies. She was stressed because it was late and she couldn't sleep, even though Eóghan, Anna and herself had stayed up late discussing the public feud between Dumbledore and Fudge. The magic she performed in class had become erratic, which was unsettling because she was usually an exceptionally precise witch and excellent student. For example, the other day Flitwick presented each of them with a life-sized statue and asked them to charm the statue to dance a basic Waltz. Róisín's statue, however, danced a kind of aggressive and erotic tango with her, even though she had used Flitwick's incantation precisely, or at least she thought she had, maybe she had been distracted. That was another problem; she felt uncomfortably horny at random times throughout the day, and even though she climaxed by herself before falling asleep most nights, it didn't seem to take the edge off. She also had no idea what had happened today with Eóghan. And finally, she was more than a little concerned that the magical world she loved would be ripped apart by an evil mastermind.

* * *

 **A/N: Róisín is from Dublin, so sometimes she uses Irish expressions:**

"I'm grand" - Irish people use "grand" for "I'm fine"

"Stop slaggin' me" – to "slag" someone is to make fun of/ tease them


	2. Effunde Naturae

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The students stilled as Professor Snape swept into the potions classroom, his inky robes rippling behind him.

"The fabled _Effunde Naturae_ is an ancient brew that originates from the stone ages. However, recent advances in the field have made it considerably more potent. As all of you managed to scrape your way into my NEWTS potion class." Snape's face twisted as he examined the youth in front of him. "You should be aware of its effects."

His charcoal eyes landed on his victim.

"Mister Atkinson, enlighten us."

"Emm, doesn't it affect the drinker by exaggerating their personality?"

"A point from Ravenclaw, for your inelegant response."

Róisín glanced at her potions partner, Ida, as her eyes flew to heaven.

"Effunde Naturae does not enhance the drinker's _entire_ personality, but rather selects that aspect of the personality which is most dominant. This chosen trait is amplified by the brew, until it eclipses the remaining elements of their character."

Snape's eyes swept over the students. Abruptly, the textbooks flew to page 213 and animated chalk began to scrape Snape's pointy scroll on the blackboard. "You have three hours. Begin."

Two hours later the cauldrons were simmering away and the shimmering fumes were sailing around the room. The aura of sweet wild garlic mingling with fresh mint made Róisín's stomach twist uneasily. Ida, a natural brewer, had taken charge and had delegated the more mundane tasks to Róisín.

Róisin's eyes wandered around the room as her hands deshelled the almonds. The dungeon air was thick with steam. She noticed that Zoltan Kun had shrugged off his Slytherin robe and that his shirt fit him perfectly. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. Róisín watched a bead of perspiration drip down Zoltan's prominent Adam's apple.

Snape's silky voice cut through her haze.

"Miss Feral, if you are finished admiring Mister Kun's musculature," Snape paused, allowing his words to have their maximum impact, "then I suggest that you _fully_ partake in this class. If you continue to allow the students of my house such power of distraction over you, I will be forced to throw you from the NEWTS course."

The shame seared through her as if Snape had doused her in petrol and set her alight. She froze. Snickers punctured the painful silence.

Zoltan grinned bashfully as his partner elbowed him.

Róisín slowly turned to Ida. A touch of second hand embarrassment painted Ida's cheeks but her green eyes looked sympathetic. She thrust a vial of measured squid ink into Róisin's hands for her to pour. The black liquid hissed as it came in contact with the bubbling potion.

Ida turned to the next page of the textbook, clearly trying to pretend that nothing had happened.

"Ok, step thirty, when the salmon pink changes to lime green, add a drop of the drinker's blood. Would you like to do the honours?"

Róisín conjured a needle and pricked her finger above the cauldron. The red of the small drop of blood spread out to stain the entire potion a deep ruby colour.

Ida flipped to the next page which contained a long list of colours with a character trait beside each one. Róisín skimmed over it, her heart still throbbing from embarrassment. "Aquamarine – optimism, Bronze – bravery, Cobalt – acuity… Lime – greed, Plum – pride… Ruby – lust"

Róisín snapped her head back to the potion whispering beside her. The ruby brew glistened, mocking her. _Oh fuck!_ A myriad of colours winked back at her from the other cauldrons around the room, but there wasn't a smidgen of ruby in any of them.

The rest of the class were humming with excitement as the students discussed their peers' colours. Róisín hovered over her potion, trying to conceal its contents.

The lump in her throat throbbed painfully. She bottled a vial of the potion with trembling hands as her vision swam back and forth. _Please God don't let anyone notice._

"It's not so bad, you could be Pucey. He has sienna for violence. Although are we even surprised? Did you _see_ him clobber Wood off his broom last match?" Ida spoke softly to Róisín, trying to comfort her. "Look, _relax,_ I'll put the vial in the basket at Snape's desk, he won't even know whose blood we used," Ida continued as she labelled their vial. It clinked when she placed it next to the other multi-coloured bottles on Snape's desk. The potions master looked up from the papers he was grading to glance at the basket. His bored expression disappeared as his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Miss Evrard, whose blood did you use?"

Ida hesitated.

"Róisín's sir"

She braced herself for a snide comment but Snape simply resumed his grading.

* * *

Róisín questioned Ida as they hurried from the dungeons up to Ravenclaw tower.

"So he didn't reply at all?"

"No, he just ignored me. I really don't think he cared, I'm sure he sees all sorts of unusual traits every year."

Róisín let out a little moan of frustration and hoped that were the case.


	3. The Hospital Wing

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* * *

Eóghan rushed panting into the hospital wing, carrying Róisín's limp form. Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey looked up from the potions they were discussing. The matron was struck by how small Miss Feral appeared cradled against McCormack's broad chest. Eóghan laid Róisín gently onto a cot as the nurse hurried towards them.

"Ah don't know what happened… one minute she was fine, the next she was hot and shaking and then she- she fainted," Eóghan stuttered.

"Where were you? Did she collapse?" Madam Pomfrey asked urgently.

Eóghan rubbed his face roughly with one large hand. "Uh… well no, cus she was lyin' down."

"Where?" the matron pressed.

"On my bed." Eóghan grimaced and looked away. He knew it sounded bad. There was silence as Madam Pomfrey appraised the flushed and sweaty girl lying unconscious in front of her.

"Mister McCormack, look at me." Madam Pomfrey's tone was low and serious. "I will have no reason to believe anything untoward occurred unless you refuse to tell me this instant **exactly** what happened."

"Em… well we were…kissin' in my room..."

The matron continued to listen while crouched over Róisín, whispering charms. The potions professor had his razor sharp gaze fixed on Eóghan, his features laced with suspicion. Eóghan started to sweat.

"Did anything about Miss Feral seem odd at this stage?" Snape's voice was smooth like a snake unwinding carefully.

"Em… Ah suppose she was a wee bit warm, and em... panting a little, but I thought that was because she was… Ah thought it was natural, given the situation."

"So in your arrogance you chose to believe that her symptoms were simply… a manifestation of her desire?"

"No, Ah didn't **choose** tae believe anythin', Ah just didn't realise that-"

"Watch your tone McCormack," Snape spat.

Eóghan took in a sharp breath and ran his hands through his unruly hair.

"I've placed a cooling charm on her and slowed her heartbeat." The nurse's voice cut through the tension as she herded the two men away from the bed. "The most important thing now is that she rest. Mister McCormack, this is not the first time Miss Feral has ended up in my wing after liaising with you. It is of utmost importance that you tell us exactly what happened before she lost consciousness."

Eóghan sighed. "She was helping me with an arithmancy assignment, and then uh… we started kissing. I was on top of her… kissing her neck.. and she was uh… moanin' I suppose and grabbing my sides."

"Did you get her consent before engaging in such activities?" Snape's voice was icy.

"Of course I did," Eóghan replied indignantly.

"Her voiced consent?"

"She never said no."

"She shouldn't have to," Snape snarled.

" _She_ climbed onto _my_ bed."

"So this is her fault."

"What? No - I didn't say that."

Madam Pomfrey could smell the testosterone in the air. She didn't believe that this was McCormack's fault, or that he had taken liberties with Feral; however they needed answers if they were to find out what was wrong with the poor girl.

"When exactly did she lose consciousness?" she asked.

"Uh… I'm not sure," Eóghan muttered.

"What do you mean… you're _not_ _sure,"_ Snape sneered.

"Well, at that point I wasn't focused on her face."

"You said you were kissing her."

"I was kissing her elsewhere," Eóghan bit back in frustration.

"Thirty points from Ravenclaw for blatant disregard for the wellbeing of your peer."

"How is giving a girl head, disregard for her wellbeing?" Eóghan shouted.

"Another ten for vulgar language," Snape retorted.

"What the f-"

"Enough!" Eóghan's curse was cut short by Madam Pomfrey. "Mister McCormack, please return to your dormitory. You may visit Miss Feral in the morning."

"But I should stay with her."

"Nonsense, she will be perfectly fine in my care."

Eóghan's body was coiled in anger as he left the hospital wing. After he had gone the matron turned to the potions professor.

"Severus, was it entirely necessary to interrogate the boy like a criminal? They _are_ both of age."

Snape ignored her question, his back rigid.

"You said this was not the first time she had been ill after being with McCormack?"

Pomfrey sighed and nodded. "Towards the end of September she came to me herself. She had similar symptoms although they were less severe; fever, panting etcetera, and obviously she was conscious. She told me she had been kissing McCormack on the quidditch pitch when she was hit with a bout of extreme nausea and rushed here."

Snape's brow furrowed in thought.

"Her _effunde naturae_ potion was ruby," he stated.

"And that means?" Snape raised his eyebrows in response. "Severus, not all of us have the one hundred or so colours and traits at the top of our heads."

"One hundred and twenty-one is the number of possible traits, at least that we know of. Ruby signifies lust."

"Oh." Madam Pomfrey frowned in consideration. "Is a ruby _effunde_ brew unusual?"

"I had never before encountered it in all my years of teaching. Although there are other possible colours I have never seen, such as salmon pink for obedience." His tone implied that this did not surprise him.

"Do you think it has some significance in regards to Miss Feral's condition?"

"I don't know. It appears that both times she has been ill it was the result of engaging in sexual behaviour," Snape mused. "Has she had any other issues this year?"

"Well she came to me at the beginning of October because she was suffering from menstrual cramping. I gave her some pain relieving potions. It's not a very unusual complaint, a couple of girls come to me with the issue every month."

Snape frowned in thought and began to list the symptoms,

"A ruby _effunde_ , painful menstrual periods, fever and nausea when engaging in sexual behaviour-"

"That's not necessarily the case; she could engage plenty and feel no effects, maybe it only occurs with McCormack."

Snape raised his eyebrows, he hadn't considered that.

"I'll take a sexual history from her tomorrow," Madam Pomfrey continued. "And then we can figure out what's wrong with the poor girl."

* * *

 **A/N It would make my day if you followed or reviewed :D**


	4. Madam Pomfrey's Unfortunate Decree

**A/N Thanks to everyone for sticking with the story. Don't worry there'll be plenty of Snape in the chapters to come ;)**

* * *

Róisín woke. She rubbed her dry eyes and grimaced as she realised her hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead. She reached out, but she could not find her thin hawthorn wand. She wasn't in her room. Looking around the hospital wing she tried to remember why she was here. Then it dawned on her _; something happened with Eóghan last night._

Over the past month, she had spent a lot of time with the Scotsman. She practiced flying with him often, and she had partnered with him to do their Care of Magical Creatures assignment, for which each group had to monitor one of the new-born thestral foals. As a group, they had the advantage that Eóghan could see the thestrals, unlike Róisín and most of the class. They had named the foal they were assigned "Bumbly" because Eóghan had assured her he was a lot clumsier than his peers.

They had kissed once. It happened when they were alone in one of the Ravenclaw mini libraries, supposedly studying. It ended abruptly when a first year stumbled into the room. Róisín felt uneasy during the brief kiss. She hoped it was because she was nervous, and nothing to do with whatever had happened a month before on the Quidditch pitch, of which neither of them had spoken.

Last night Róisín had gone to Eóghan's room to work on an Arithmancy assignment. While she leaned closer to him, pointing out a mistake in a calculation, he had placed his hand on her thigh. She recalled how the light from the candles played with the angles of his face and made his naturally heartfelt smile appear even warmer. Róisín had turned towards him and he had kissed her, sliding his hand higher up her skirt. Róisín sighed as she remembered moving from his desk to his bed, clutching his t-shirt and pulling him on top of her. He had kissed down her body above her clothes. She had shivered in naive excitement. It was her first time on a guy's bed. She blushed as she recalled how she had felt too warm and panted, like a dog locked in a hot car.

Then her memory became hazy. She vaguely remembered Eóghan lifting her skirt but could recall nothing more. _Did he bewitch me?_

Róisín shook her head at her thoughts, Eóghan would never do that. So why couldn't she fool around with a guy like any other eighteen-year-old could? Why did it have such a strange effect on her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey hurrying into the hospital wing, her arm wrapped around a crying first year. Professor McGonagall followed swiftly behind. They brought the boy to the far end of the wing. Róisín heard them murmur softly to him. Pomfrey left the boy with McGonagall and approached Róisín. She noticed that Pomfrey's normal bustling stride was gone, replaced with tired movements as if the air around her had grown heavy.

"That poor, poor boy," the matron muttered, her expression wilted. " _What_ is happening to our world?"

Róisín sent her a puzzled look.

"Oh, of course, you haven't heard! There was an attack on that poor boy's family and his muggle father was killed."

"By who?" Róisín asked in shock.

"Well, _you-know-who,_ of course! Not him directly, I'm sure, but his supporters following _his_ orders, although I'll transfigure my arm into a pumpkin if the daily prophet mentions _him_ this morning, oh no, they'll say it was a random barbaric act, or worse, an accident!"

"Why were they attacked?"

"His mother is an unspeakable, she worked in the department for the Study and Protection against Bedevilled-

"-and Blighted Magical Artefacts," Róisín finished for her. "I did an internship there last year-" Her eyes widened. "Merlin, she isn't Professor Smith, is she?"

"Yes, did you work with her?"

"Yes, well, I couldn't do much work, considering how obsessed the unspeakables are with secrecy, but she mentioned her husband a few times." Róisín's stomach sank like a ship in a bottomless sea. "She spoke so lovingly of him."

There was a pause while both witches contemplated the young boy's loss.

"So, it was because of her job?" Róisín questioned.

"We don't know, could be, or because she married a muggle, however, I am not here to discuss the torrid state of affairs of our world, I have to ask you about last night."

Róisín's cheeks went hot as if her freckled skin had spent too long in summer sunlight. The matron pressed on,

"I know you are of age, and it's embarrassing to discuss with an old woman like me, but you have come here _twice_ now after being with Mister McCormack, and last night you were in a _most_ serious condition."

Pomfrey explained to Róisín what Eóghan had told herself and Professor Snape. Róisín felt her throat tighten at the mention of the Slytherin head. Pomfrey continued,

"He said the reason he didn't notice you were unconscious earlier was he was about to…" The matron paused, uncharacteristically hesitant, "…perform oral sex and momentarily didn't notice that you had passed out."

Róisín choked on her own breath.

After regaining her composure, she managed to mumble her own memory of last night.

"Have you engaged in similar activities with other boys before?" Pomfrey asked clinically.

"No, nothing like _that_ , just a few kisses when I was younger."

"Witches and wizards can exhibit all sorts of peculiar magical reactions when they make the transition into adulthood," Pomfrey assured Róisín. "Sometimes their control of their magic can be affected, or they may feel unwell due to unknown reasons but normally the issue fades with time."

Pomfrey paused and scrutinised Róisín, as if the cause of her illness were written somewhere on her person. Róisín awkwardly wrapped her arms around her small frame.

"Miss Feral, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from engaging in any sexual behaviour with Mister McCormack or anyone else for a while." Róisín nodded. "Hopefully we'll figure out whatever enchantment or magical allergic reaction you're under soon, and then you can run back into Romeo's arms." Pomfrey winked at her.

"Magical allergic reaction?"

"Oh yes, you could have interacted with some enchanted object that didn't sit well with you, it happens every so often, but there are usually remedies, don't you worry."

* * *

Later that day Róisín collapsed onto a couch next to Ida and Anna in the Ravenclaw common room. She had spent the past twenty minutes reasoning through a particularly long winded logic quiz involving a dragon egg, hippogriff, goblin, centaur, a river to cross and a single broom.

"I know the golden eagle riddles are ingenious and everything, but sometimes I think it seriously effects the productivity of us Ravenclaw students," Róisín complained to her friends. "I get that the hippogriff could smell a disillusioned dragon egg, but the goblin, really?"

"Well, we need some way to keep the brainless riff-raff from the inferior houses out, don't we?" Anna asked mockingly.

"Yes, because there is _no_ other way to achieve that, oh wait, what about… _passwords,"_ Róisín replied indignantly.

"That eagle was enchanted by Rowena Ravenclaw herself, one _thousand_ years ago, you should show some respect," Ida muttered from between the pages of her "Transfiguration Perfection" textbook.

"Respect! That thing has been wasting the precious study time of our house's students for a _thousand_ years!" Róisín joked and raised her eyebrows to Anna, as Ida huffed and continued reading. Róisín made a habit of pointing out the inefficiencies of the wizarding world, especially if she thought it would lure Ida out of a book and into one of their high-spirited debates.

After a magical pinky-promise in which her friends assured her that they wouldn't tell anyone about her embarrassing problem, Róisín told them everything that had happened with Eóghan. The pinky-promise spell was one Róisín had used to great effect through-out many years of teenage drama. If the promise were broken, her little finger would tingle. Afterwards she went to find Eóghan to tell him Madam Pomfrey's unfortunate decree.


	5. Nighttime Cramps

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

* * *

Róisín woke slick with sweat. Her insides ached. She clutched her abdomen and curled into a foetal position. She pressed her fingers against her crotch hoping to relieve the throbbing in her labia. Dragging herself to her feet, she stumbled into the bathroom. She stuck a bulky night-time pad onto her underwear and collapsed back onto her bed. She huffed when she realised that blood had somehow managed to escape her pad and stain the bedclothes.

Róisín had gone to Madam Pomfrey after her first two periods at Hogwarts this year, both of which had been intolerable. The matron had been very understanding and had given her enough pain relieving potion for a couple of months, or so she had claimed, Róisín had somehow taken all the pain reliever just to get through a single period. Now she had none left for this month. Her face burned at the thought of having to ask the nurse for more. Would she think she was addicted to the potion now? Was she? She groaned at the idea of a drug problem on top of her strange bouts of wooziness and her libido running amok.

Her eyes were squeezed so tightly shut it felt as though they would pop from their sockets. A fierce hatred for her own body bubbled through her and a sob shook her at the realisation that she was out of options. It appeared that once a month her hormones took a break from making her unbearably horny just to encourage her womb to claw itself to shreds. The pain in her head pulsated like a living thing, an enraged animal trying to escape the confines of her skull. Why did it hurt so much? How weak must she be for her period to cripple her, when other women barely noticed it?

A hesitant rap of the door was followed by Ida's uncertain voice,

"Róisín, is everything OK?"

Grimacing in embarrassment, Róisín managed to spit out,

"Just…not feeling well."

"Oh, is there anything I can-"

"No, no, I'll be OK – Sorry for waking you."

"Listen, you really don't sound OK, may I come in?"

Róisín strained to make her voice sound natural,

"Sure"

Ida's eyes widened while she took in Róisín's shivering form.

"OK, I'm bringing you to-"

"No, honestly, I'll be fine, it's just my period."

"Can you walk? Or will I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"Em..." Róisín let out an involuntary groan as she shifted her weight onto wobbly feet. The edges of her vision blackened as she straightened.

"Lie back down before you faint, I'm getting Pomfrey," Ida asserted.

* * *

Ida cast a quickening charm on her feet as she hurried through the castle. Anxiety nibbled at her chest as the torch flames flickered, licking the tall stone walls. Suddenly she noticed a black shape gliding towards her. Choking back a scream, Ida's wand hand shot up.

"Miss Evrard, enlighten me as to why you are wandering the corridor at such an ungodly hour… apparently looking for a duel."

Snape eyes looked pointedly at Ida's wand.

She lowered her wand as her words stumbled out.

"Apologies Professor, Miss Feral's not well, I have to find Madam Pomfrey."

"Tell me what illness has befallen Miss Feral that she is incapable of finding the matron herself."

Ida blushed and averted her eyes.

"It's her period."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I know it doesn't sound serious, but she's in a lot of pain, I didn't know what to do."

His gaze swept over Ida's quivering form. Abruptly he turned as a sliver shape poured from his wand and dashed around the corner towards the hospital wing.

"Take me to her," he ordered.

As they ascended the stairs towards Róisín's room, it struck Ida that her biggest legacy at Hogwarts would be as the Ravenclaw who lead the Slytherin head of house into their private sanctuary. _Róisín is going to kill me._

Ida knocked on Róisín's door. She was acutely aware of Snape looming behind her.

"May we come in?"

"Did you get Pomfrey?" came Róisín's soft voice.

"Em… not _exactly_ "

Snape moved past Ida and opened the door.

Róisín scrambled back on her bed as her face shot towards the potions master. He stood in her messy bedroom, scrutinizing her, a poster of Johnny Depp on the wall behind him and her dirty clothes and girly toiletries littering the floor beneath him. She felt intensely vulnerable under his glare. _Why is he here?_ His eyes flickered momentarily towards her stained bedclothes. The almost imperceptible shift in his gaze pushed Róisín over the edge. She gasped for breath as her emotions ripped through her; embarrassment, confusion, pain.

"Miss Feral, there is no need to panic," Snape said slowly, with a look that implied her histrionics irritated him. "I will not harm you. Madam Pomfrey is on her way."

He moved to the side of her bed. Róisín kept her eyes trained at his chin as he towered above her.

"Lie on your back and straighten your body."

Róisín obeyed, her face throbbing red with shame.

Snape drew his wand and muttered " _Ostendolor_ " as he placed his elegant black wand against Róisín's forehead and lightly dragged it down her body. Past her nose, her lips, her chin, her neck, between her breasts and past her stomach. The feeling of the tip being pressed against her skin with such precise pressure was strange. Her breath caught as she thought he would drag it over her privates. Just after the beginning of the slope of her pubis he changed course and drew a precise line down her left leg.

Ida watched as Róisín's body glowed through her thin pyjamas. Her groin, lower abdomen, and head burned red. Her breasts were a deep orange. The rest of Róisín's body was lit with varying shades of yellows, greens and blues. Ida was privately relieved it wasn't her own braless body that Snape was inspecting.

"Professor, what did you do?" Ida tentatively asked.

"I performed a spell that reveals the subject's pain in the form of a heat map."

Madam Pomfrey scurried into the room, shooing Ida away from the bed. She peered over Róisín, her forehead creased and lips pinched. She didn't pause in her appraisal as she spoke,

"Miss Evrard, I appreciate you informing us of Miss Feral's condition, but now it is time for you to get some sleep."

Ida slipped out of the door and away from the peculiar scene.

* * *

"I will return with _ciclo consolatio_ and blood replenishing potion," Snape muttered as he left the room.

Pomfrey began to sing an incantation in a language Róisín did not recognise. The young Ravenclaw closed her eyes in relief as the soft, sweet tones soothed the pain in her centre, like ice-cream over a badly-burnt tongue.

Snape returned with two vials, one the colour of fresh blood and the other a swirl of baby pinks and sky blues.

Róisín sat up as he thrust the red vial into her hand.

"Drink it _all,_ " he ordered.

Róisín's stomach contracted in disgust as she gulped down the thick, coppery liquid as quickly as she could.

" _Ciclo consolatio_ will ease the discomforts associated with menstruation." Snape held up the other vial. "However, because of its side effects, I advise you to take one spoonful only." With a click of his fingers a spoon materialized, hovering in front of her. He handed her the vial.

Róisín eyes flickered awkwardly around the potions master's impassive face as she waited for him to explain the side effects.

"Sometime today Miss Feral, it is not my intention to spend all night in your bedchambers." He indicated the vial Róisín held gingerly. Róisín stuttered,

"S-side effects sir?"

Snape glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who was sorting through a bag of supplies she had brought. Róisín saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

"The way this brew interacts with your hormones may cause you to feel unusually _licentious."_

"Oh" Róisín scrunched her brow, trying to remember the meaning of the antiquated word. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Meaning that this brew is known to induce lascivious thoughts."

Róisín frowned as she tried to digest the information.

"Bloody hell," Snape grunted. "It _means_ it'll make you rand-"

"-I _know_ what it means," Róisín spat.

Pomfrey's head snapped up from the notebook she was writing in. She had never heard a student talk back to the head of Slytherin.

Snape peered down his long, hooked nose at Róisín, who dropped her eyes to her lap and gritted her teeth, bracing herself for a scathing retort.

"Half a spoon might be more prudent, as there is reason to believe you will prove _especially_ susceptible to the effect," he sneered.

Róisín's room wobbled as tears filled her eyes. She didn't know if he was referring to her _effunde_ brew, or what had transpired with Eóghan, or both. She shoved the rising sob back down her throat and held the potion back to her professor.

"Em… I would prefer not to take it… if that's OK." She looked anxiously at Madam Pomfrey for support.

"Of course dear, I'll leave you with some of our standard pain-relieving potion."

Snape looked at her as if she were a curious specimen he wanted to dissect as he took the vial from her hand. His lips curled over his uneven teeth as he spoke,

"Naturally a Ravenclaw would refuse anything that may tamper with their precious intellect."

Then he left with the abrupt movements of a spider, pausing only to acknowledge the matron with a brief incline of his head.

Róisín sagged against her headboard as she let out a long sigh of relief.

"Don't worry about your professor," Pomfrey advised her. "He is much too busy to think twice about anything that might embarrass you."

"Thank you, ma'am, for looking after me. I'm sorry I've been such a bother recently, taking you from your bed in the dead of night."

"Miss Feral, I did not accept this position as nurse of Hogwarts, home of one thousand students, expecting uninterrupted sleep," the matron assured her. "Now in regards to your symptoms, sometimes young women experience painful menstrual cramping for a year or so, but it normally ameliorates as they grow older. I've left you some potions and instructions, and I would like you to visit me next month and let me know if you have the same issue."

Madam Pomfrey patted Róisín on the shoulder as she turned to leave.

"Good night, Miss Feral"

"Good night, ma'am"

Róisín felt light with relief now that the pain was gone. She snuggled deep into her covers and drifted through her dreams like a cloud meandering over mountains.


	6. The Mutafidus Curse

"It was _mor_ tifying." Róisín dragged the word into a low groan. "Professor Snape, in my room - and you guys know how messy my room is – and me just gaping at him like a complete eejit."

Anna stifled a snort and Róisín gave her a light smack on the arm.

"It is **not** funny."

" _That_ is a matter of opinion," Anna teased.

"And you!" Róisín turned to Ida. "How could you bring him to my room, you traitor!"

"What did you expect me to do? Say no to _Professor Snape,_ duel him in the corridor?" Ida responded incredulously.

"Yes, that's what _friends_ do," Róisín said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Ha! You wouldn't talk back to Snape to save me from the _cruciatus,_ " Anna scoffed.

Róisín laughed. "You're right there. But I expect higher standards from my friends."

The three girls hurried through the castle towards the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom.

"I don't think I can emphasise enough just how messy my room was!" Róisín began again.

"Stop fretting about it. It could have been worse. Did you hear that last year he caught a seventh year Hufflepuff giving head in the fifth-floor bathroom?" Anna snickered. "Can you _imagine_?"

Róisín barely heard her. "And I was in my pyjamas, with no bra, and my sheets were stained, and it was so heavy….. Oh God, do you think he could _smell_ it?"

Anna tipped back her head and let out a bark of laughter, her dark chocolate locks swinging with the movement.

"Well, he is known for his acute potions master's nose," Ida said and winked at Anna. "Last year he knew Martin used pumpkin seeds instead of apple in his _dracotabus_ antidote just by the smell."

"Oh, shut up," Róisín shot her friends a fake scowl.

* * *

"Today we will practice resisting the _mutafidus_ curse," Professor Lupin began, "as the few of you who actually did their reading assignments will know, the _mutafidus_ can be used to influence the loyalties of your opponent."

A murmur of anticipation rippled through the class. The _mutafidus_ curse was in the same family of spells as the _imperius_.

"Can anyone tell me how it achieves this?" their professor asked.

"The _mutafidus_ changes the victim's feelings towards the caster. It makes them empathise with their attacker," Anna answered.

"Correct Miss Bathworth." Anna's pretty cheeks rounded with her smile. "The degree of manipulation depends on the strength of the casting. It can range from subtle feelings of misgiving over causing harm to the caster, to feelings of intense respect and admiration towards them. So… what are the typical outcomes when it's employed in a duel?"

Anna answered again,

"It can vary, sometimes the victim continues attacking the caster with lessened enthusiasm, other times they will cease their actions altogether. In rare cases the victim may even turn on their allies." Róisín and Ida raised their eyebrows to each other in response to Anna's prompt answer. Anna always prepared thoroughly for their Defence against the Dark Arts classes. Although her friends knew that she aspired to be an auror, they thought that a crush on a certain professor may contribute to her passion for the subject.

Professor Lupin smiled warmly. "Correct again Miss Bathworth."

"He **so** knows," Róisín whispered. Anna walloped her with her knee beneath the desk.

"I have asked Professor Snape to lend us his expertise for today's lesson, as he is particularly adept at the _mutafidus_."

Róisín's head shot up at the mention of the potion's master.

"I bet he is. There's not a dark curse he can't do," Róisín heard a Gryffindor mutter.

Lupin gestured for the students to leave their seats. The desks and chairs clattered as he stacked them along the side of the room with a few flicks of his wand. The light from the tall thin windows lit slices of the air in which the dust motes drifted, and made a striped pattern on the floor of the newly cleared space. A colossal dragon skeleton hung above as if waiting to judge their fighting skills.

"Ah Professor Snape, thanks for coming." Róisín swung around at Lupin's greeting.

Snape stood at the back of the room like a dark spectre. The students hadn't noticed him enter.

"My pleasure," he drawled. Lupin ignored his sarcasm.

"Ok, please form groups of three. Each group will attempt to disarm either myself or Professor Snape. You may, and in fact I encourage you to, use the whole range of defensive spells we have covered thus far." Looks of surprise bounced around the students. "In terms of offensive spells, please limit yourselves to those which are unlikely to cause grievous bodily harm. Professor Snape and I will, obviously, show restraint." The glance Lupin shot Snape hinted at his uncertainty that this was obvious to the both of them.

Lupin instructed the students to line up into two rows in their groups. Each group would take turns to duel one of the professors.

"During these duels, Professor Snape and I will attempt to use the _mutafidus_ to lessen your resolve. When you feel our influence on your mind, attempt to recognise it as foreign, isolate it, and ignore it."

The students swarmed into a line in front of Lupin. Only one group of Gryffindors, the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, stood defiantly in front of Snape. They huddled together to strategize in urgent whispers. Snape looked entirely unperturbed. Lupin sighed.

"Could the last two groups of my line join Professor Snape's? I have complete confidence that you will leave here intact."

Ida, Róisín and Anna, and another Gryffindor group, reluctantly lined up behind the Weasleys.

"OK, why don't our foolhardy Gryffindors go first."

The rest of the class backed away. The Gryffindors in question stood in a classic duel stance with their wands trained at Snape's chest. Snape let his wand slide into his hand, but barely changed his posture. The three students bowed slowly, their eyes not leaving their target. Snape inclined his head in response.

"Begin-"

"MELOFORS-"

"STUPEFY-"

"CANTIO-"

The Gryffindors' curses bolted towards Snape before the second syllable of "begin" had left Lupin's mouth. Snape's wand moved in a blur and the curses rebounded off an invisible shield with three thuds and a flash of colours. His opponents were knocked backward. The orange spark from the _melofors_ jinx hit one of the twins in the gut and a pumpkin popped onto his shoulders, encasing his head. The other twin was flung into the air by his ankle with a silent _levicorpus_. Jordan's _verdimillious_ charm missed its mark and green sparks exploded where it hit the top of the blackboard.

" _E-Expell-_ "

" _ **Mutafidus**_ " Jordan's hesitant disarming charm was smothered by Snape's first verbal command. Róisín shivered at the confidence with which the syllables slithered from her professor.

Snape lazily deflected two badly-aimed curses from the incapacitated twins and stepped towards Jordan.

Jordan mumbled " _Expelli_..." but then stopped, seemingly unsure. He glanced between his friends and Snape with a strained look on his face. Just as the Weasley encased by the pumpkin managed to crack the vegetable and free his head Snape stupefied him. The other shouted at Jordan to disarm Snape and continued trying to cast stuns upside down. Jordan ignored his requests.

An unpleasant feeling twisted Róisín's gut as Jordan slowly turned away from Snape and pointed his wand at the Weasley suspended in the air.

"What are you-?" The twin protested but was cut off by Jordan's low voice,

" _Expelliarmus_ "

Weasley's wand flew from his hand and landed with a clatter on the stone floor.

Jordan stood in front of Snape, like a guard dog.

" _Finite Incantatem"_

At Snape's words a look of confusion crossed Jordan. One twin fell to the floor while the other clambered to his feet from where he had been lying stupefied.

The students were still. Róisín could taste in the air the collective awe and disquiet at Snape's duelling prowess.

"I knew we could expect no less than an excellent demonstration from our potion's master," Lupin praised.

"Well, if it had occurred to even _one_ of your three students to perform a shield charm then the defeat may not have been so abrupt," Snape sneered.

"Yes… still it was a gallant effort boys." Lupin smiled at the deflated trio. "Your timing was a fraction off, so the use of a non-verbal would have been advantageous, but well done none the less. Ten points to Gryffindor for being the first to bravely confront Professor Snape." Snape threw his eyes to heaven as Lupin grinned at the boys. "Mister Jordan, could you explain to your peers how it felt to be under the influence of the _mutafidus_?"

Jordan looked between Snape and the Weasley twins as if trying to figure out what had happened. He scratched his forehead.

"Eh… I dunno really, at the beginning I felt this surge of… respect for the professor, and I still tried to use _expelliarmus_ , although I didn't really, _want_ it to work." Jordan's cheeks tinged red as he looked apologetically at the Weasleys. "And then… well I just felt like I should protect him, I had this overwhelming sense that it was… the _right_ thing to do, I suppose that's why I disarmed Fred."

Lupin addressed the class.

"Try to banish any sudden urges to "protect" your opponent, especially if you hear the _mutafidus_ being cast."

A rumble spread through the classroom as the students began to steel themselves for their turn. Anna turned to Róisín and Ida with a look of determination.

"Ok, tactics… Ida, you have the best shield in our year, can you cast a _protego amicis_ around the three of us the instant the duel begins?" Ida gave her a quick nod. "I'm the quickest, so I'll use _equiperture_ to knock off his balance as fast as I can. Róisín, you try to disarm him. Any objections?"

Ida and Róisín shook their heads. Róisín whispered,

"Don't worry, we'll try not to make you look bad in front of your _favourite_ professor."

"You better not," Anna said darkly.

The next group, a trio of Ravenclaws, stepped forward to duel Lupin. Moments later two of the students were disarmed while the other was under the _mutafidus_. The bewitched student had stopped fighting, although he did not turn on his peers like Jordan had.

Róisín had believed that there were a few excellent duellers in their year, Anna being one of them, however she was amazed at the huge gulf in skill between her fellow students and her teachers.

Róisín, Ida and Anna stepped towards Snape.

"And next we have… Ah excellent! Three of the brightest young witches in Hogwarts," Lupin exclaimed. The three girls thrummed with adrenaline as they stood in front of Snape.

"Now, don't go too easy on your professor girls," Lupin said with a wink. "And… Begin!"

"EQUIPERTURE!"

"PROTEGO"

"EXPELLIARMUS"

The roar of the girls' incantations caused their peers to jump, and anyone watching closely would have seen Snape's eyebrows rise slightly at the girls' show of spirit.

The professor erected a shimmering shield milliseconds before Anna and Róisín's spells ricocheted off it. A heartbeat later a bright purple spell sparked against Ida's own shield.

" _Titillatio,_ " Snape muttered.

A long sliver of light poured from his wand and snaked towards the girls. Róisín and Anna continued trying to disarm him but his shield stood strong. Ida's wand hand shook and her brow furrowed with the effort of maintaining her own _protego_. The three girls huddled together to minimize its required size. To their horror, the light wriggled under Ida's shield and split in three, striking each of them in the abdomen. The three Ravenclaws stilled, unaware of the impact Snape's spell would have.

A tickling sensation burst inside of Róisín, not an itchy type of tickle, but the type that makes you writhe on the floor and beg for relief. She clutched her stomach and giggled as Anna squealed. Their shield dropped when Ida's laughter joined theirs and her wand flew across the room with a silent disarming charm from Snape.

" _ **Mutafidus**_ _"_

Róisín felt the tickling sensation abruptly disappear. A thought gripped her: _Snape is amazing._ He was watching her. Róisín cocked her head to the side like a curious animal and returned his gaze. _He's smart and powerful… and so kind to help us learn. Why are we fighting him? He deserves better._

Róisín turned and regarded her friends. Ida was wriggling on the floor, wandless. Anna was attempting to stay on her feet and disarm Snape while squirming wildly against an invisible assailant. _She looks ridiculous, what is she trying to do? Attack our professor? Crazy._ Then a quiet voice fluttered from a corner of her mind. _Do I always sound like this in my head? These thoughts sound… foreign._ But the train of thought scurried away when she met Snape's gaze. _I should stop Anna._

Like a wild cat striking its prey Róisín whipped around, threw out her wand hand and cried,

" _ **VOLAT PULSUM**_ _"_

Anna flew into the air like a rag doll and smacked against the stone wall with a revolting thud, followed instantly by a crack as she struck the tiled floor.

The sound freed Róisín from the _mutafidus_. For a moment the whole class stood still in sickening silence. Then the quiet was ripped apart by Róisín's desperate wail.

A huge wolf patronus darted by as Snape swooped over Anna, muttering furiously as he weaved his wand above her. Róisín staggered towards them, begging incoherently.

"Please… PLEASE… **NO**.."

Anna lay like a distorted prop from a horror film. The sight of her slack jaw and the strange angle her head made with her neck caused Róisín to fall to her knees and dry heave.

She didn't notice Lupin barking orders at her frantic classmates or being shoved out of the way by Madam Pomfrey. Nor did she realise that Ida, shivering and crying, was trying to drag her across the cold stone floor away from Anna's bloodied body. She couldn't hear Ida mumbling in her ear, or feel her trembling arms wrapping around her and rocking her back and forth. All she could feel was a guilty panic that gripped her chest tighter and tighter until she knew it would strangle her.


	7. Interrogation

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* * *

Róisín woke with a painfully dry throat and a headache that felt like a giant was trying to pop her brains out with a nutcracker. She squinted against the bright light of the room and jerked when she noticed two tall shadows standing just outside the curtain at the end of her bed. They were murmuring in low, insistent tones. The shadows noticed her movement and pulled aside the curtain to reveal Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. The headmaster, who was in his usual flowing robes, stood in colourful contrast to the sinister, black-clad form of the potions professor.

"Miss Feral, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore spoke softly, although his voice lacked its usual warmth.

Róisín began to speak but her dry throat made her cough. The headmaster conjured her a glass of water which she gulped greedily.

"Em… I don't know Professor… what-"

When her eyes landed on Snape's the memories of the previous day washed over her like an ice-cold waterfall. She gripped her face, horrified, as she frantically searched her professors' expressions.

"Oh God! please tell me she's ok? Please-" Her voice broke as a sob wracked her body.

"Miss Bathworth is alive," Snape said, watching her closely. "She should be fully recovered in a matter of weeks."

Róisín cried as the relief washed over her.

"I'm so, so sorry, I can't believe I…h-hurt her, she's my best friend." Róisín gasped for breath between her words. "Is she awake? May I see her?"

"Madam Pomfrey has decided to put her in a potion induced sleep for two days, to allow her body to heal."

Róisín took deep breaths as she absorbed the information.

"Miss Feral, would you tell us what you recall of the events leading up to the accident?" Dumbledore asked.

 _Of course, they're here to interrogate you._

Róisín sniffled and rubbed her leaking eyes and nose.

"Well, Anna made a plan, she was going to use _equiperture_ to unbalance Snape… I mean Professor Snape, and I was supposed to disarm him... um I mean, you." She glanced at the potions professor. "Ida cast a _protego amicis_. But Anna and my spells were both blocked by Professor Snape's shield, and a spell of his, I don't know which, somehow slipped under Ida's _protego_."

"It was a _titillatio_ spell _,_ a sensory delusion curse which can penetrate _protego_ shields," Snape explained.

"Oh… well it made me feel…" Róisín blushed as she remembered the effect of Snape's _titillatio_. It was strange that a spell from the cold, callous professor could initiate such a feeling of excitement and glee, however undesired the feelings were. Róisín swallowed. "It felt like someone was pinning me down and tickling me, I completely lost my concentration, but the feeling disappeared when the professor put me under the _mutafidus_."

The shame rose in Róisín like an ocean wave as she remembered the moments before she cursed Anna.

"I had these strange thoughts of… respect towards the professor." Róisín winced as she heard her words. "Not strange because I don't normally respect you sir, but just-"

"Relax Miss Feral, I have no doubt that you hold me in very high regard." Snape's sarcasm made Dumbledore's lips quirk.

Róisín swallowed again. "I had this feeling that I needed to protect Professor Snape, and to do that I had to stop Anna, and I must have cast the first spell that came to mind."

"Where did you learn the _volat pulsum_ curse?" Dumbledore asked

"I... I didn't know I _had_ learnt it sir, I know I learnt _of_ it when I came across it in the book: "Advanced duelling techniques" by… who's your one… oh yeah, Esther Hornsthrottle." The two men didn't reply so she added, "I gave it to Anna for Christmas last year, she loves Hornsthrottle and I borrowed it because I was interested in the theory. I didn't practice any of the spells. I don't understand how I cast it, I didn't even know I had remembered it." Róisín's brow creased as she tried to recall what she had read about the spell. Dumbledore watched her from behind his famous half-moon glasses. "I know this must seem crazy, but I never meant to hurt her, the _mutafidus_ was messing with my head. I don't know _what_ possessed me to use a spell that I never had before, I suppose when I read about it I didn't realise it was that powerful-"

"- It's not," Snape cut her off.

"Pardon sir?"

"It's not a particularly powerful or violent curse. A normal casting of the _volat pulsum_ will fling an opponent a couple of feet backwards. _Your_ spell, however, threw Miss Bathworth high in the air and six metres backward, although it would have been farther if there had been no wall to obstruct her path."

Róisín grimaced.

"I don't understand sir."

"Neither do we," Dumbledore replied. "Although Professor Snape has some interesting theories-"

Dumbledore was cut off by Madam Pomfrey throwing back the curtain fully. She sent Róisín a tight smile.

"Miss Feral, glad to see you up, after the shock you got yesterday."

"What happened after… did I faint?"

"Well, you seem to have had a panic attack dear, so we gave you something to calm you and brought you here to get some rest."

Róisín looked away from the three staff members standing over her bed and focused on the rain tapping at the window, anxiously trying to recall what had happened yesterday but she could remember nothing after seeing Anna's limp body.

"You may come with me to see Miss Bathworth although she is still asleep," Pomfrey said.

Róisín nodded to her professors and slipped out of the sheets to follow the matron, too anxious to see her friend to care that she was only wearing a hospital gown.

At the other end of the hospital wing Anna lay deep asleep. There was blotchy purple bruising around her normally pearly white neck and shoulders. The sight caused guilt to writhe like worms inside Róisín.

"You may stay with her for a little while but I expect you to attend your afternoon classes. I will let you know when she wakes tomorrow."

"Ok, thank you."

"And the headmaster would like to see you in his office at seven this evening."

"Ok," Róisín replied quietly.

* * *

 **A/N: I would be delighted if you were to follow and/or review!**

 **Also "your one" is an expression people from Dublin use to mean "that woman/girl" - (Róisín tends to use colloquialisms when she's stressed)**

 **Thanks for continuing with the story so far!**


	8. Sióga

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* * *

Róisín wrung her hands together. She was in Dumbledore's office for the first time. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for the headmaster to appear. Various glinting instruments whirled and vibrated from the nooks and crannies of the room. The quiet was decorated by their soft clicking and purring, as if they were curious woodland creatures chattering about the intruder. Life-like oil paintings of stern wizards hung on any inch of wall that was not covered by a bookcase or cabinet holding strange artefacts. Róisín felt like she had wandered back in time to Da Vinci's study.

"Good evening, Miss Feral"

The headmaster arrived from the corner of her eye, his glorious snowy beard bouncing against his knees as he approached her.

"Please"

He gestured to a chair in front of his imposing, and somewhat cluttered, desk. Its golden clawed feet flexed and gripped the ground, as if strained by their burden. Róisín sat and greeting him with an awkward nod. The previous headmasters scrutinized her from inside ornate, golden frames. The brush strokes describing them flickered as they shifted in their seats to get a better view.

Dumbledore regarded her from beneath bushy eyebrows that reached inches away as if trying to escape his face. The apparent hesitation from the normally eloquent professor was unsettling.

Just as Róisín opened her mouth to interrupt the uncomfortable silence, the fireplace roared. She looked around to see Professor Snape step out of the luminous green flames. He walked across the room and deposited a hefty tome in front of her with a thud. Its title read, " _Enchanted Life - A Classification of Magical Beings_ " in black spiky cursive. The edges of its pages did not line up as if it had been bound by hand.

"Miss Feral, I understand you have been having some unusual problems this year," Dumbledore stated.

Róisín fidgeted in her seat. Snape stood at the window with his back to them, silhouetted against the various shapes of the castle glazed with moonlight.

"I suppose I have," Róisín replied.

"I believe Professor Snape may have found the cause of your problems." Róisín's eyes flicked back to Snape. "He suspects you are a _sióg."_

The hard front-cover of the book hit the desk as its pages flew open, causing Róisín's hair to flick backwards. It landed open on a page with a scratchy animated sketch of a girl strolling through a meadow, the foxgloves around her blooming as she brushed past them. The drawing was in grey pencil except for bursts of colour in the flowers. At the top of the page was written " _Sióga"._

Snape turned around.

"Headmaster, I don't think my presence at this meeting is necessary-"

"-Your insight is always valuable, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted.

It was the first time Róisín had heard Snape addressed by his given name. She saw a ripple of irritation darken his features. He murmured,

" _Muffliato magna"_

Róisín felt as though he had plunged her head into a beehive. Her ears were filled with a loud, incessant buzzing. She watched Snape's pale lips move rapidly as he spoke to the headmaster, as if his normal slow drawl was for the benefit of his dim-witted students. Dumbledore replied stiffly, his expression stern. It was as if both of their personas were discarded during the tense exchange. Róisín felt perturbed. Then the incantation was lifted.

"Read"

Snape's brusque order made Róisín flinch. She reached out a trembling hand to pull the book closer. Out of habit, she rubbed her fingers of one hand together to light a candle beside the book, to see better in the dim light. Instantly, flames shot like whips towards the ceiling from all the candles in the office, illuminating the room like daylight for a second. Then the flames died, leaving the room darker than before.

Róisín's eyes widened as she turned to look at her hand, still suspended near the candle, an inch away from where a flame had just erupted. Snape lit the candle with a click of his fingers. Róisín caught him exchange a look with the headmaster.

"Miss Feral, do you normally use wandless magic for day to day tasks?" Dumbledore asked.

Róisín nodded.

"Anna says that I must be part goblin, that I wouldn't notice if a gremlin came and stole my wand."

"And is it normal for you to exercise such little control?" Snape asked.

Róisín bit and sucked her bottom lip, trying to ignore the tears swelling in her eyes. _You are a seventh year, you should be better than this._ She released her lip and gave a steady response,

"I've been having difficulties recently… controlling my magic."

She looked down to avoid her professors' eyes, inwardly admonishing herself for being childish.

"Go ahead and read this entry, and we can begin to understand what's happening to you," Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing towards the book.

Róisín began to read:

 _A_ _ **sióg**_ _(plural:_ _ **sióga**_ _) is a female who can use magic. In this regard, she is similar to a witch. However, she receives a different classification because of the connection between her magic and her lust._

Róisín's face ripened red as she read that last word. She carried on reading,

 _Sióg is an Irish word meaning "fairy". Written accounts suggest that sióga come exclusively from Celtic countries, most notably Ireland. There are few recorded cases of sióga. The most famous of which is that of Aoife Ní Drisceoil (1705-1811), whose correspondences were studied by the magical historian Professor Ásbjǫrn Rasmussen (1805 – 1931) after her death. There is evidence to suggest that sióga are a strain of_ _ **nymph**_ _(see pg. 600-658)._

Róisín looked at Snape, her features contorted with incredulity.

"Y-you think I'm a different _species?" s_ he gasped.

An unrecognizable emotion twisted his face for a heartbeat, then it was gone. He stared back at her with his trademark indifference. _Maybe it was a trick of the light._

"The concept of species is largely irrelevant when discussing magical beings. Muggles and wizards are clearly different, yet they can mate with each other," Snape explained slowly, as if such logic were too complex for her.

Dumbledore added,

"Sióga are still human, they just use a different kind of magic to other witches, in the same way that house-elves use a different kind of magic."

"Why do you think I'm a _sióg_?" Róisín pronounced the unfamiliar word uncertainly. She had studied Irish when she was a child in Ireland, but those lessons felt ages away.

"If you continued reading, it would become apparent," Snape said with irritation.

 _Various Irish myths dating around the 11_ _th_ _and 12_ _th_ _centuries [331- 402] portray sióga as being small in stature, with shapely figures and unruly hair._

Róisín felt hot. She raised her hand to the back of her hair. Throughout the day knots always knitted themselves into her wavy mane, despite how often she brushed it. Today was no exception.

She was acutely aware of her two professors watching her. Even sitting down Dumbledore seemed to regard her from a great height. _Well I am small, a head shorter than every other girl in my year._ She took a shaky breath and read on.

 _These myths describe sióga as being adept at wandless magic, like goblins or elves, although there are reports of sióga using wands. It is unclear whether this is due to habit, as most sióga are raised as witches, or necessity, as a wand may help a sióg focus when performing complex magic._

 _The facts surrounding the interaction between a sióg's magic and her lust are unclear. It appears that if a sióg is not fulfilled sexually, she will gradually lose control of her magic and suffer from unsavoury symptoms. According to Rasmussen, Ní Drisceoil was confined by her parents in the year 1724 to prevent her from continuing her illicit affair with the influential wizard Óisín Mac Lochlainn. During that time Ní Drisceoil wrote to a companion complaining of painful menstrual periods, an overwhelming sexual appetite, and erratic displays of powerful magic which she was unable to control. These symptoms hint to a link between the sióg's sex hormones and her magic._

Róisín wasn't usually a sweaty person, but as she realised that these "symptoms" corresponded to the problems she had been having, she felt as sweaty and awkward as if the three of them were sharing a steamy sauna.

"Miss Feral, I realise this meeting is making you feel uncomfortable, which is understandable, but we'll be burnt to a crisp if you continue to raise the temperature," Dumbledore said gently.

Róisín's face burned. She had been magically heating the air around her. She wished she could melt into a puddle and slip away under the crack beneath the door.

Dumbledore waved his wand and a cool breeze washed over the room. Róisín continued reading,

 _Studies of previous sióga state that for a sióg to fulfil herself, she must lie with a wizard or witch (the gender depending on her preference) who has reached magical maturity. If a sióg lays with a wizard whose magic is not sufficiently potent, i.e. who has not reached maturity, the relations may weaken the sióg._

Róisín thought of how she felt sick when she kissed Eóghan. _But what does it mean "reached magical maturity"? Eóghan's eighteen._ She could ask her professors, but she knew that forming a coherent question would be asking too much of herself, therefore she read on, hoping that she could keep reading forever, so that she wouldn't have to discuss this mortifying situation with her professors.

 _The reasons for this remain unclear. The only explanation to be found in the literature was proposed by Rasmussen [450]. He claimed that by lying with a powerful wizard a sióg's magic is disentangled from her lust, relieving her symptoms of "frustration" and giving her sharper control over her magic. As a consequence, the wizard receives the magical energy that bond the sióg's magic and passion together, making him stronger. However, the magic leaked from the sióg during coupling can only latch onto an able wizard, otherwise it will be lost. The reader should note that this analysis relies on the theory of the quantifiability of magic, which has been largely refuted in recent years [10, 35-60]._

 _There is evidence that sióga were a lot more common in ancient times [451-455]. Some historians have speculated that they are the origin of the archaic use of the verb "to know" to mean "to have intercourse with", since by lying with a sióg a wizard gains some knowledge of her magic which increases his capabilities [456-462]._

 _Sióga have been both scorned and coveted in wizarding society. Historically they have been derided for the symptoms they experience when they are unsatisfied. On the other hand, many dark wizards have sought out sióga to exploit them for their power [200-219]._

It was the end of the section on _sióga._ Róisín hadn't absorbed all the details. She pretended to read over the passage again, but the words were indistinguishable through her tears.


	9. Little Blue Vials

**Previously:**

 **_Sióga have been both scorned and coveted in wizarding society. Historically they have been derided for the symptoms they experience when they are unsatisfied. On the other hand, many dark wizards have sought out sióga to exploit them for their power [200-219]._**

 **It was the end of the section on sióga _._ Róisín hadn't really absorbed the information. She pretended to read over the passage again, but the words were indistinguishable through her tears.**

* * *

It started to snow for the first time that winter. The snowflakes falling against the night's sky outside Dumbledore's office window looked like tiny shooting stars plummeting to the ground. Róisín tried to contemplate the millions of unique shapes whirling past, even though they all looked the same to her. No one had said anything since she had finished reading the passage on sióga.

Snape finally decided to stop looming over them like an elongated bat and sat down in an armchair beside the fireplace. Dumbledore broke the silence,

"It's natural to feel overwhelmed, so first why don't you ask some questions."

A tear trickled down Róisín's cheek and splashed onto the drawing of the sióg, morphing its curvy body into a shapeless blob.

"You're sure I'm a fairy?" she asked.

"There are a lot of signs which would lead us to that conclusion, yes."

"What does it mean?"

"Well, your magical wellbeing will continue to deteriorate until we find you a mature wizard or witch."

"Wizard _or_ witch?" Róisín repeated dumbly.

"Whichever you'd prefer."

"Miss Feral would prefer a wizard," Snape said, "judging from how she _discreetly_ eyes her male peers."

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with playfulness at Snape's remark.

"Severus, now isn't the time for flippancy, and we shouldn't presume," he scolded light-heartedly.

Róisín wondered if Snape was thinking of the time he caught her checking out Zoltan Kun, or whether her other teachers had been discussing how distracted she'd been recently. She knew she should feel humiliated, but all she could concentrate on was the painful throbbing above her eyes.

"Snape's right," Róisín said.

" _Professor_ Snape," Snape growled.

"I think we can forgive Miss Feral a bit of insolence, given the circumstance." Dumbledore smiled at her.

Róisín glanced at the potions master, he did not look like he agreed.

"Can I continue my studies at Hogwarts?" Róisín hoped they couldn't hear the desperation in her voice.

"Of course you can. I would not expel a student for something she cannot control," the headmaster said reassuringly.

"But if I were a squib or-"

"-But you're not. You're an exceedingly powerful magical being," Snape spat the compliment as if it were an insult. He seemed irritated that she could be so ignorant about what she was.

"It's just I read somewhere that ages ago a veela was kicked out of the school-"

"Ah, you refer to Miss Lilyana Valentinieva Draganova." Sorrow tugged at the lines of the headmaster's face. "Alas, at the start of the nineteenth century many of the young men at this school did not uphold the strong moral codes that your colleagues do today-" Snape let out a low snort. Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't heard, "-and Miss Draganova left for her own safety."

"These days veela don't attend the same school as witches, mainly because their magic works in a profoundly different way, hence, they cannot be taught with the same techniques," Snape lectured, his sterile tone contrasting with Dumbledore's compassionate words, "and obviously, their presence can be very… _disruptive._ However, veela and sióga are quite different-"

 _Of course they are._ Róisín's brain snapped at her. _I'm too plain to be a veela._

"-a veela is considered the quintessential object of male desire, whereas a sióg is said to personify… active female desire."

 _Great, so I don't get to be pretty, just annoyingly horny._

Róisín noticed that Snape's ordinarily unwavering eyes darted away from her at the end of his sentence. She was glad that the topic was making him uncomfortable too.

"I don't understand, the passage said a sióg can… be with a mature wizard." Róisín paused, uncertain. "But when Eóghan and I… were together, it made me feel unwell, even though he's eighteen. Doesn't he qualify as a mature wizard?"

"He's an adult in the eyes of the Ministry of Magic, but that does not mean he has reached magical maturity," Dumbledore replied.

"When will he?"

"McCormack is unlikely to ever reach magical maturity, given the amount of time he spends on his broom trying to impress his female classmates," Snape answered. His tone implied Róisín's question was stupid and naïve. _Or was that just his default voice?_

"Only especially capable and talented wizards can hope to reach magical maturity," Dumbledore explained. "A mature wizard is an old-fashioned phrase meaning a wizard who has reached the apex of wizarding potential and mastered many forms of magic."

"Oh… so I suppose there aren't many hangin' around," Róisín remarked awkwardly.

"No, there certainly aren't." The gravity in Dumbledore's tone struck Róisín. She saw no trace of his gentle grandfather persona in his piercing blue gaze.

Her muscles tensed against the silence in the room. _I can't believe I'm discussing my future sex life with the two most intimidating men I know._ A drop of delight fell into the rough sea of her emotions as she imagined the look on Anna's face when she told her about this meeting. Then the memory of her best friend's mangled body on the classroom floor hit her like a violent wave and dragged her under. Her shoulders shook, her face scrunched, and hot, fat tears swam down her cheeks.

Snape sighed loudly over her sobs as if he were suffering a mild inconvenience. Dumbledore leaned forward and gave her shoulder a comforting pat.

"I brought a calming draught in case of such a reaction," Snape said evenly, as if she were a broken device he was suggesting how to fix.

"I think it would be unwise to rob Miss Feral of her emotions now, at the moment she discovers the nature of herself," Dumbledore replied.

Róisín's hair fell like curtains and hid her face as she hung her head and blubbered. Through her tears and auburn curls she saw Snape's jaw clench. She presumed he didn't find the headmaster's snippets of wisdom very endearing after hearing them for over a decade.

The minutes dragged by. Róisín continued crying. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Perhaps now it would be reasonable…" Snape had already started handing him the vial of sky blue calming draught.

Róisín took the vial from Dumbledore, and swallowed it greedily, hoping it would wash away the guilt that was relentlessly squeezing tears from her. The potion left a pleasant drowsiness in her stomach, as though she had indulged in a hearty homemade meal, but she still felt numb and weak.

"I think you've made a mistake," Róisín began softly, "you mentioned sióga are powerful, so I couldn't be-"

"-We do not have time to debate. You **are** a sióg," Snape snapped, Róisín opened her mouth to protest, but her professor continued, "your effunde brew was ruby, a colour so rare that it has not been seen in thousands of students for thousands of years, a colour signifying _lust;_ two nights ago I saw you writhe in pain from menstrual cramping, indicating that your magic has begun to wreak havoc on your hormones; you have the physical characteristics of a sióg, you're barely five foot, with overtly feminine proportions and permanently dishevelled hair;" The tirade flew from his lips, as if convincing her was barely worth his time, "you have shown powerful magical potential, but your dangerous lack of control almost killed a student; you turn ill whenever you try to engage with mediocre wizards, and, correct me if I'm wrong, you have felt unbearably _wanton_ since the start of term-."

"-Severus, that will do," Dumbledore said softly.

Róisín's face blossomed red. Snape's voice was as contained and authoritative as ever, despite his palpable frustration. An uncomfortable realisation crept through her: Snape had suspected she was a sióg for a while. She tried to think of something to say so his last statement wouldn't be left echoing in the air.

"I'm so confused, why can I only sleep with wizards who are magically mature?" she directed the question at Dumbledore, avoiding Snape's gaze.

"Professor Snape's more knowledgeable than I am on this matter, so maybe he should explain."

Snape's features darkened as if Dumbledore's statement had been a hidden insult. Then he began explaining in a bored tone,

"No one knows how a sióg's magic functions, there's been so few specimens in recent years that it's not a convenient subject to study, but the following is my understanding; As I'm sure you're aware, women tend to be, in general, more particular than men when choosing their sexual partners. Some people think that sióga can only sleep with a very limited range of wizards because their magic encapsulates and exaggerates this feminine trait."

Róisín felt her skin tingle. She had started to perspire. _Oh Gods, Snape is talking to me about sex._ Her giddy gaze dashed around his person, flicking past his angled jaw, long torso, crooked nose, prominent Adam's apple, lengthy fingers; never letting her eyes meet his. They finally rested on his thin lips as she willed herself to concentrate.

"It may be a coincidence that the sióga we know of could only lie with magically mature wizards. Perhaps a sióg can only lie with men who represent the epitome of some aspect of her desire, and it just so happens that historically these tended to be very dominant, powerful wizards, who were considered magically mature."

Róisín gulped. Snape's detached academic manner regarding her situation was unnerving.

"However, seeing as all the sióga we know of have only been able to be with magically mature wizards, it'll most likely be the case for you too," Dumbledore said. Snape looked like he disliked this conclusion, but he did not argue. "Before we tackle the problem of finding a mature wizard, there is something we need to discuss. I will ask for your honesty and in return I promise to not hold your opinions against you."

Róisín held the headmaster's gaze, but she heard Snape shift in his seat and felt his eyes puncturing her skull.

"Do you believe Lord Voldemort has returned?"

Before she could stop herself, Róisín reflexively peaked at Snape, recalling the varied rumours she had heard that he had been a You-Know-Who supporter. Her eyes met his briefly before she shot her head back in Dumbledore's direction. She wondered why being a sióg had anything to do with You-Know-Who.

"Emm, I don't know, sir," she answered. Her two professors gazed at her expectantly, both silent and still. Róisín, who tended to babble when flustered, rushed to explain herself, "I don't know Potter, but I know from Anna, who's cousins with Alicia Spinnet, who plays Quidditch with him, that he's really nice-not an attention seeking prat at all, and em, well I don't believe that you're the power grabbing lunatic the Prophet paints you to be, but at the same time, well not a lot has happened since… Diggory died, and I've read that students have died in that competition before… I honestly don't know." Róisín inhaled and continued in a small voice, "I suppose I don't want to believe he's back, especially because I'm muggle-born."

In the silence that followed Róisín inwardly groaned at the contrast between her professors' elegant articulations and her own jabbering.

"All perfectly reasonable thoughts, Miss Feral," Dumbledore said. "However, for the purpose of this discussion, you must believe me when I say that, unfortunately, Lord Voldemort **has** returned."

Róisín nodded slowly and tried to return the headmaster's steady gaze. Dumbledore gestured to the book open on the "Sióga" page.

"That book claims that dark wizards have sought to exploit sióga. Do you understand why?"

As the colour drained from Róisín's face, her freckles stood out sharply.

"Because by sleeping with them, they gain some kind of power?" she asked uncertainly.

"That is the general belief." Dumbledore paused. "Therefore, you can understand why the return of Lord Voldemort is pertinent to this discussion."

The headmaster's words caused fear to rise in Róisín like a serpent winding itself around her body, squeezing the breath from her. She did not know what to say.

"As long as… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is unaware of what you are, you will be safe," Snape commented. Róisín noted that he had paused as if reluctant to mention the infamous wizard.

"That is why we must ensure that the knowledge of you being a sióg does not leave this room," the headmaster said, his expression more serious than Róisín had ever seen. Her chest clenched as if the serpent of fear encircling her had pulsated viciously. _You-Know-Who really is back. And if He discovers what you are He will find you and He will…_

Róisín grasped her face in her hands and pushed her eyes back into her skull, sickened by her own thoughts.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God…" she repeated through clenched teeth.

Snape placed another little blue vial on the desk in front of her. Róisín threw the milky concoction down her throat. She breathed out slowly, shuddering, as a familiar calming warmth spread through her. _Exhale, inhale, exhale._ She gave her head a tiny shake to dislodge the milky clouds obscuring her thoughts.

"But if He _does_ find out?" Róisín asked.

Both men stilled, hesitating. Their eyes flicked to each other.

"He won't," Dumbledore stated firmly. "You can have complete faith in Severus and myself." He paused. "However, I believe that it may be difficult for you to not inadvertently let it slip to your friends."

"But I can tell my closest friends, like Anna, right? She'd never betray me."

"The problem with teenage girls," Snape drawled, "is that they each have a close friend who would never tell a soul their secret, who in turn has another close friend who would never tell, until the whole world knows." He glanced at Dumbledore, who gave a slight nod.

"Stand," Snape ordered as he rose from his seat. Róisín stood on shaky feet a pace from him. He stepped closer and raised his unusually long, black wand, so that it pressed against her bottom lip in a "shush" gesture. Róisín eyes rounded like an owl's as she craned her neck up to look at him. She promptly blushed at the eye contact and lowered her head to stare at his chest. **_What_** _is going on?_

" _Lingua ligatum"_

Róisín bit her lip as her mouth and tongue vibrated strangely in response to Snape's incantation. Then he stated in an oddly formal tone,

"You may speak about the matter to Albus Dumbledore."

Snape returned to his seat. Róisín remained standing for a moment, completely baffled, before she sat back down.

"That was a tongue-tying spell, Miss Feral," Dumbledore explained. "You will lose your voice if you try to discuss anything related to being a sióg to someone other than Professor Snape and myself."

Róisín gritted her teeth. _There's no need to treat me like a child, s_ he thought moodily.

"Simply a precaution, Miss Feral, to ensure your safety," Dumbledore said as if he could hear her thoughts. "Now, back to the matter of finding you a partner. Unfortunately, there are only a handful of wizards who I know to be magically mature, and less still who we can trust."

Róisín shivered. A bolt of fire shot from Snape's wand into the fireplace, which flared and began to hiss and crackle playfully, jarring with the ominous tone of Dumbledore's words. Snape's knuckles went white as he grasped the wings of his armchair, as if bracing himself for an impact, although the rest of him did not betray his cool demeanour. He stared at the fire as if it were slightly more interesting than his present company. Róisín felt her shirt cling to her sweaty back as she straightened in her seat.

"Of course, as it takes many years to become skilful enough to be considered magically mature, most of these wizards are considerably older than yourself. However, I do know an exceptionally young wizard who is widely considered to be magically mature."

"Oh" Róisín felt her spirits lift slightly, "What age is he, sir?

"Thirty-five."

"Oh, that's not old at all," Róisín exclaimed, relieved. She had been imagining wizards similar in age to the headmaster. _I've fancied loads of thirty-something-year-olds._ A shirtless, sweaty Brad Pitt from the film fight club stalked across her imagination. _He was mid-thirties then..._

Róisín shook her head hastily and continued, "So I'll be ok, my magic will stop going haywire if I sleep with this mature wizard?" Although still mortified at the topic of conversation, she felt reassured that she might be able to continue practicing magic without being a threat to those around her.

Dumbledore smiled. "That's the theory."

"Is there any chance he would be, em, willing?" Róisín asked, blushing.

Dumbledore didn't answer, but turned to look at Snape. Róisín, confused, reluctantly looked at the potions masters too. The man in question was still as a statue, glaring at the flickering flames, although Róisín sensed that under his heavy black robes his muscles were tense like an elastic band pulled too far and she felt the need to look away as if he might snap.

 _Why does Dumbledore think Snape would know if the wizard would…_ Her thought died as the realisation hit her. _Snape is the magically mature thirty-five-year-old._

She turned away to face the window. The blurry white shapes swirling frantically in the wind outside mirrored her frenzied thoughts. _Dumbledore thinks Snape should be the one to... but he doesn't want to, he's furious about it._ It felt like she were slipping slowly into the icy waters of the black lake. _That's why he's been acting so sullen with Dumbledore!_ Before this meeting Róisín had never seen the potions master be anything less than respectful towards the headmaster. She suddenly felt more afraid than when she had heard of You-Know-Who's possible interest in her. At least that had felt far away, like a spooky fairy tale no one truly believes. The surly man sitting in front of the fire was undeniably real.

Then, without turning from the flames, Snape released his death grip on the poor armchair, reached into his robes and pulled out yet another blue vial and held it out to Róisín.

"Is a _third_ dose necessary Severus?" the headmaster questioned.

"Oh, it is," Snape replied tersely.

Róisín realised that the air was shivering with her fear and that her chair had been jumping an inch with every violent beat of her heart. She took the vial from Snape gingerly, neither of them looking at the other's face. This time the potion had a powerful effect on her, and she suddenly felt very calm and sleepy. She realised that Dumbledore and Snape were talking and strained to listen to what they were saying, like an exhausted child fighting to stay awake at a sleepover.

"Well I think that's enough information for Miss Feral to absorb in one night, considering her mental faculties are at this stage severely befuddled," Dumbledore was saying.

"Better befuddled than running from the room screaming, Albus," Snape snapped. "My presence was wholly unnecessary, if we had asked Minerva or Poppy-"

"-It is vital that no one can know, you of all people should understand."

Róisín was vaguely aware of her professors arguing in front of her. She knew she must have the dazed look of a happy drunk, but she still had questions she wanted to ask. Now that the potion was flowing merrily through her veins, she didn't feel like the situation was all that bad. Yes, she'd have to sleep with Snape, but it was kind of exciting, wasn't it? The prospect of sex with an older man. _And he has such… presence. It would really help my sexual frustration. And if I squint my eyes and tilt my head just right, he doesn't look so bad._

Róisín noted that her professors had stopped quarrelling under their breaths and were now looking at her, Snape with his trademark scowl of condescension, Dumbledore with a look of slight concern. She realised she had been staring at Snape and straightened up.

"I'm not at all b-befubbled," she began, "I feel-" but she stopped as she heard how peculiar her voice sounded.

Snape's raised an eyebrow at her. The tiny part of her brain which remained lucid railed against the unfairness of his derision, seeing as he was the one to give her the potion. She was vaguely aware that the effect of this potion had been amplified by the previous two. She felt uncharacteristically uninhibited.

"So, the plan is for me to sleep with Professor Snape?" she asked brazenly, determined to leave with answers.

Snape's eyebrows flickered with disbelief and he looked away from her, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose in exasperation. Róisín could tell he was straining against the instinct to reprimand her.

"Well, we'll have to test whether that will work," Dumbledore answered.

"There's still hope that I'm not to your magic's _taste,_ " Snape sneered.

"Oh," Róisín breathed, confused as to what they meant. "When will we do that?"

"If you could come again tomorrow at seven in the evening," the headmaster replied. Snape shot him an unrestrained filthy look, but Dumbledore's smile didn't falter.

"Will do, sir"

"Well, that's all for tonight, Miss Feral, we'll see you tomorrow."

"OK, good night professors"

Róisín trotted merrily down the Headmaster's spiral staircase. However, as she neared the west side of the castle unpleasant thoughts broke through the mist of the potion and her footsteps began to pound the brickwork moodily. _If only I were normal and could kiss Eóghan._ The Scottish boy's youthful grin morphed into Snape's sullen sneer in her head. _My first time should be with someone I feel close to - not the most intimidating professor at Hogwarts._ She groaned out loud. A group of important looking wizards in an adjacent painting turned to stare, shocked that a young woman could make such an indecent noise. _Although,_ A sly voice inside her began, _intimidation and power can be kind of sexy..._ Róisín felt her face glow red in the darkness. _That's just the potion talking, s_ he thought dismissively.

By the time she was dragging herself up the staircase to Ravenclaw tower she was entirely sober. And mortified. Her head relentlessly replayed the most embarrassing bits of the meeting, such as the look on Snape's face when she had asked shamelessly about sleeping with him. She realised now that the last potion was more than a simple calming draught, Snape must have added something to relieve her embarrassment. She didn't know whether that was creepy or strangely sweet.

She managed to solve the riddle (what breaks when you say its name? – silence) and slip up to her room without having to chat to anyone. Despite her exhaustion, she lay awake for a long time worrying what Dumbledore meant by "testing" whether Snape would work out and dreading her potions class the next day.

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 **A/N: I'd love to hear what you think!**


	10. Ignis Immunitas

**A/N : Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, the reviews really encourage me to keep writing.** **Hope you enjoy :D**

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Róisín shuffled her feet on the rough stone of the dungeon corridor. The breezy smell of asphodel lily along with a hint of musty wormwood floated under the crack of the potions classroom door. The smell told her that the sixth-years were attempting to brew a draught of living death. Her eyes darted across the wrinkly parchment in her hands as she waited anxiously for the sixth-year class to finish. The title, " _Notable criminal cases of the past decade involving the use of potions in Great Britain"_ was scrawled with an inconsistent slant across the top of the parchment. She had written the essay in such a rush that even she couldn't interpret some of her squashed vowels. Was she _sure_ it had been clause twenty-four and not forty-two of the Amortentia Act that led to the acquittal of Mr. Borgis Beasley? She bit her lip and tapped her foot. Should she have added that extra paragraph on the use of Felix Felicis for the England defeat of Wales in the quidditch quarter-final?

The sixth years swarmed out of the classroom, the smoky fumes from their brews spilling out the door with them. Róisín was glad to spot Ida's tall figure manoeuvring through the pack of younger students. She had no desire to be alone with Snape as they waited for her classmates to arrive.

"Hey, what cases did you include for your essay?" Róisín asked her.

Ida unrolled her wrinkle-free parchment printed with inhumanely neat handwriting. Róisín hurriedly attempted to smooth her own blotched, dog-eared essay with her hand.

"Well, the Faust and Beasley cases, the time in eighty-five when Veritaserum was slipped into the Ministry's water supply, the Kraus poison scandal and the rape case involving Polyjuice potion."

"Oh, I didn't include that one, I felt weird writing about it in an essay for Snape, maybe I should have." Róisín's picked at her nails nervously.

Ida looked slightly taken aback at Róisín's nerves. For a Ravenclaw, Róisín was usually laid-back about homework, however after last night's meeting she suddenly cared a great deal about her potions essay and wished she had worked harder on it.

"You got an E on your last two essays, Róisín, it'll be fine," Ida said with a smile. "Is Anna awake yet?"

Róisín's heart gave a little guilty lurch.

"I popped in this morning but she was still asleep."

The classroom door flew open and banged against the wall. Róisín took a deep breath and followed her classmates inside.

Snape was sitting at his desk scowling as he examined the potion vials left by the previous class. Most of them contained an oily black liquid but a few were an unpleasant shade of green. The students took their seats in silence. Snape took a bottle out of a drawer and lifted it up for the class to see. He tilted it and the potion inside slid as if it were cool, liquified metal.

"What is this?" he asked without preamble.

" _Ignis Immunitas,_ sir," Ida answered.

"Correct"

Snape rose and stood in front of his desk while undoing the buttons on his shirt cuff. He folded up his sleeve to reveal the pale skin of his right forearm.

"Miss Johnson, come here."

The Gryffindor flinched. Snape rolled his eyes.

"There is no need for the look of abject fear, Miss Johnson, I simply need a student with a steady hand."

The students shot each other curious looks as Angelina approached the potions master cautiously. Snape uncorked the bottle of the metallic potion and swallowed the contents.

"Light my arm on fire."

"Pardon, sir?" Angelina gasped.

"You heard me. Avoid my robes."

The Gryffindor hesitated. Snape raised his eyebrows.

" _I-Incendio"_

Hungry orange flames shot out of Angelina's wand and licked the potions master's bare forearm. Snape did not react. Róisín, who was sitting close by, could feel the heat from the fire on her face.

" _Finite,"_ Snape said. Angelina's flames disappeared.

The students stilled. The fire immunity potion was cool, but Róisín knew the reason for their unease was that Snape had ended Angelina's spell, even though she had been holding her wand and he was not touching his.

 _"_ _Magically mature,"_ Róisín's mind taunted her. She reddened as she thought of last night's meeting.

Angelina was staring at her wand as if it had betrayed her. Róisín's eyes lingered on Snape's forearm as he rolled his sleeve back down. It was weird to see his bare skin. She had never thought of him as human, and it dawned on her that he didn't sleep and bathe in his long black robes, that underneath he had skin just like everyone else.

"Sit down," Snape told Angelina and she retreated to her seat. He leaned against the desk behind him.

"What are the key ingredients in the Ignis Immunitas brew?" There was silence as his dark eyes inspected the class. Was it her imagination or did his gaze skip past her? Finally, Anthony Atkinson, a fellow Ravenclaw with round, thin glasses spoke up,

"Fire-crab claw, sir."

"A lucky guess, fire-crab claws can be used, but a more potent substitute would be?"

Marchand, a tall, dark-haired Slytherin with elegant features answered,

"Salamander blood, sir"

"Ten points to Slytherin." Another pause in which no one volunteered an answer. "Five points from the two houses whose students could not name a single ingredient."

"But there's no one from Hufflepuff in this class!" Angelina exclaimed. Snape ignored her.

"The other vital ingredients are crushed dragon scales and perpetual ice, both of which are rare and expensive." He glared at them as if it were their fault he had to waste precious resources on their education. "Therefore, get in teams of three or four. Six months before your NEWTS, I expect a perfect brew from each group."

Two and a half hours later Róisín's group, which included Ida and Angelina, were drenched in sweat, with their outer robes in a heap on the ground. Snape's black shadow prowled through the steamy fumes, seemingly immune to the heat emanating from the fiery potions. Róisín and Angelina watched as Ida used a metal tongs to place a perpetual ice cube into the blistering red potion. The ice cube did not melt but dissolved into snowflake shapes. The snowflakes divided again and again until they turned into glistening specks and disappeared. The potion cooled and turned a steely blue. Róisín sighed with relief.

Suddenly, the dungeon air cleared and Róisín could again make out the other groups of students.

"Two students from each group will come forward with a vial of their potion," Snape instructed.

Róisín and Angelina approached Snape's desk with the other pairs of students. Anthony, the Ravenclaw, made to place his group's vial in the basket on the desk.

"Drink it," Snape instructed. Anthony stilled. He glanced at his potions partner, a very dark-skinned Slytherin girl called Naishiye.

"Sir?"

"Drink. It," Snape repeated, each syllable clear and sharp. Anthony hesitated for just a second before gulping down the grey liquid with a suppressed grimace.

"Miss Kiserian, Incendio Atkinson's arm." Naishiye's almond-shaped eyes rounded with disbelief.

"Is that a refusal?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously low, "in that case your group will receive zero and will write a five-foot essay on the importance of precision in potioneering."

Naishiye looked at Anthony uncertainly.

"I would not ponder your decision, Miss Kiserian, the potion grows less effective every second."

Anthony gave her a tiny nod. He held out his arm, his shirt sleeves already rolled up because of the heat. Naishiye said the incantation and fire spurted from her wand onto Anthony's skin. His sharp inhale through his teeth indicated that it was not entirely painless, but his skin was seemingly unharmed.

"Enough," Snape said after a few seconds. Naishiye extinguished the flame. The skin on Anthony's arm was tinged pink as if he'd gotten mildly sunburnt. Snape glanced at his arm.

"Acceptable," he said without emotion.

Róisín saw Anthony wince when his arm brushed past another student as he returned to his seat. Herself and Angelina were next. Angelina had unstopped their vial and was about to drink the contents as Snape made a note on a piece of parchment.

"No don't!" Róisín whispered urgently, "let me drink it."

"I can handle it," Angelina replied stubbornly before swallowing the potion. _Ugh, Gryffindors,_ Róisín inwardly groaned.

"Dunno if that was a good idea Johnson, you don't want to end up splattered on the wall like her bestie." Róisín froze. It felt like an ice cube had been slipped down her back. She looked around and saw the owner of the voice, Marcus Buckley, a small, thin Slytherin, sniggering with Marchand.

"Fuck off," Angelina spat at them beneath her breath.

Snape looked up from his desk,

"Five points for language, Miss Johnson."

His eyes flickered between the four of them and Róisín noticed that he paused for a heartbeat, as if unsure of his next move.

"Feral, sit down and tell Evrard to come up." His voice was low, and Róisín got the impression that he didn't want the other students to notice that he was preventing her from performing the Incendio spell. Buckley and Marchand smirked at her as she went to get Ida.

Their potion was very effective, Angelina told them that the flames felt like warm air from a hair dryer and her skin remained chocolate brown and unblemished. Ida said she'd seen Snape mark an E grade beside their names. The two girls didn't comment on how Snape had made Ida perform the Incendio spell instead of Róisín, for which Róisín was grateful. She tried to push to the back of her mind the fact that she hadn't trusted herself to do such a simple spell, and neither had Snape.

Four more groups tested their potions and then, the last pair of students, Lee Jordan and another Gryffindor, stepped forward. Snape held out his hand for their vial before Lee had a chance to unstop it. The potions master held the vial in front of him so that the light from a candle illuminated the dull grey potion.

"Which species of iguana skin did the instructions say to use Mister Jordan?"

"Er… there's more than one species?" Lee replied.

"You have used green iguana and not desert iguana skin," Snape explained, his dark eyes pinning the Gryffindor to the spot. "Green iguanas live in the tropics and therefore their skin offers less protection against heat. Although I am inclined to allow you to test the potion to see the effect of your blunder I do not wish to incur the matron's wrath." He stopped and scrawled something in his leger as Lee and his partner made to return to their seats. "An essay from each member of your group will be on my desk Monday morning," Snape added.

The students left their essays about criminal cases of potion use on Snape's desk before leaving the classroom. As Róisín placed hers on top of the pile she noticed how crumbled it appeared next to its rivals. She brushed her hand on top of her essay and felt her skin tingle with magic as the creases smoothed to make the paper perfectly straight with razor sharp edges. When she lifted her hand however, she saw with dismay that she had distorted her writing, it was now so slanted as to be illegible. _Stop using wandless magic! s_ he scolded herself. She glanced at Snape hoping he had not seen, but he had been watching her. She stood still, her heart fluttering as she waited for him to snap at her. But he didn't. He simply reached across the table, took her essay and placed it underneath the pile before the students chatting behind Róisín noticed. Róisín opened her mouth to apologise but stopped when he gave his head a minute shake.

 _He doesn't want anyone to realise there's something wrong with me,_ Róisín thought as she slipped out of the classroom and joined Ida who had been waiting for her in the corridor. As the two Ravenclaws scurried from the bowels of the castle up towards the Great Hall for lunch, Róisín wondered if she would be given the usual punishment, detention, for not handing in a legible essay. _I suppose I could ask him in the meeting with Dumbledore later today,_ she thought, huffing as she clambered up the last steps into the Entrance Hall, the fragrant smell of roast vegetables greeting her.


	11. Skele-Gro

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Róisín inhaled her lunch of creamy mashed potatoes and roast chicken before hurrying through the castle to see if Anna had woken. She paused at the entrance to the hospital wing and peaked through the glass in the doors. Inside, the marble floor twinkled in the cold winter light. _It looks like heaven._ Alarmed by the thought, she strained against the huge, teak doors, suddenly more desperate than ever to see Anna. She squinted as she stepped into the light and dashed across the wing, her footsteps smacking against the stone and echoing off the high ceiling.

Anna was sitting up with pillows behind her back, reading the note Róisín had left that morning telling her that she loved her and would be in to check on her every few hours. She looked up and a smile lit her pretty face at the sight of Róisín, just as Róisín felt her own smile burst across her lips. Róisín made to hug her friend, but stopped herself and instead reached out to squeeze her hand gently. Anna returned the gesture.

"I-" It felt like a snitch was stuck in Róisín's throat. "I don't know what to say."

"It's ok." Anna's voice was soft and hoarse but her big blue eyes shone with warmth.

"I am so sorry." Róisín tasted a drop of salt on her lips. "I can't believe what happened, I will never forgive my-"

"-Stop," Anna cut her off. "It was **not** your fault. I know you would never hurt me."

"But I _did_ hurt you! You almost died!" Róisín felt tears race wet trails down her cheeks.

"You would never _purposely_ hurt me," Anna said forcefully, her voice becoming more normal, "and besides, it's that git Snape's fault, I'd probably be fine if he wasn't so bloody good at every bleedin' dark spell ever invented." Róisín gave a light snort despite her tears.

"Madam Pomfrey told me what happened," Anna continued, giving Róisín's hand another squeeze, "and I forgive you, Róisín, even though there's nothing to forgive-"

"- Of course there's something to forgive! I flung you against a wall for Christ's sake!"

"You were **cursed** at the time!"

The two girls stared at each other stubbornly. Róisín pulled up a stool to sit beside Anna's cot.

"I'm still never going to forgive myself," she muttered childishly, although she couldn't help smiling with relief. Anna was awake and had forgiven her. It felt like she'd been pulled in from an icy storm and wrapped in a warm blanket.

"Tell me **everything** that happened." Anna's round eyes glittered with mischief. "Madam Pomfrey said that Lupin sent his patronus to tell her. Is that true? What form did it take?"

"Em, I don't remember much, I think I had a kind of panic attack when I saw what I had done." Anna's eyebrows angled upwards with concern. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, don't **you** feel sorry for **me** , it's bad enough you forgave me so quickly for almost killing you," Róisín scolded.

Anna rolled her eyes to heaven. "But did Lupin seem, you know, concerned that I was hurt?"

"Well of course he did, his student almost died!" Róisín said, exasperated. She knew Anna was purposely making light of the situation to make her feel better.

Róisín filled her friend in on what she had missed while she was recovering. She told her about yesterday's transfiguration class where they learnt how to transfigure their partner's robes into muggle clothes and they both laughed when she described how the Hufflepuff Martin Brown had accidentally vanished Roman Jacquet's robes instead of transfiguring them.

"I hope he wasn't too embarrassed," Anna said in-between giggles.

"Not at all," Róisín assured her, "to be honest I think he was happy, he knows he's gorgeous."

She told her about their potions lesson earlier that day, even though Anna didn't take that class. Anna's mouth popped open when she heard how Snape told Angelina to cast an Incendio on him, and widened further when she learnt that he made them test the potion on each other. Róisín didn't mention how Snape had prevented her from casting an Incendio on Angelina or how she had ruined her essay, unsure of whether it would trigger the tongue-tying curse. She desperately wanted to discuss the crazy sióg business with her best friend, but she knew she couldn't.

"So, what's going on with you and Eóghan?" Anna asked eagerly.

"Eh…" It was as if Róisín had forgotten how to speak. She moved her lips over her teeth and flexed her tongue but she could not make a sound. Anna gave her a funny look and Róisín coughed noisily. "Sorry, em, something caught in my throat," she lied as Anna cast Aguamenti into a glass for her. Róisín drank the water down in one go while she tried to think of an excuse to change topic, but was saved by Madam Pomfrey whisking towards them. The matron's grey curly hair bounced beneath her starched nurse's cap and she was holding a bottle made from yellowed bones.

"Good Afternoon, girls," she greeted distractedly while checking Anna's pulse. She poured a large glass of what looked like milk from the bottle and handed it to Anna. Anna's eyes squinted with disgust as she forced the liquid down.

"Ugh, that's like rotten milk mixed with cheap firewhiskey," Anna spluttered.

"Not a flavour you should be familiar with Miss Battworth," the matron tut-tutted.

Anna winked at Róisín, but groaned when she saw Madam Pomfrey pour another glass of the white potion.

"You have to finish the bottle, and the sooner the better, so I would start getting used to it." Anna began to protest but the matron continued, "Your pelvis and collarbones were _pulverised_ beyond repair. I had to vanish and regrow them." She looked at Anna sternly, as if it had been her fault. Róisín squirmed on her stool. She remembered the sight of Anna's crumbled body on the classroom floor, all strange angles and deathly still. The memory was full of such exquisite detail that it must have been scraped onto the inside of Róisín's skull. She was not surprised that Anna needed a full bottle of Skele-Gro.

Madam Pomfrey continued fussing over Anna like a cat grooming her kittens, full of purpose and with little affection. She checked her temperature, flexed her arms, shoulders and legs, and waved her wand in seemingly random shapes in the air above her.

"While you slept, I gave you half a bottle of Skele-Gro with a skin absorption spell, but you still need plenty more," she explained. Róisín watched Anna's features twist with pain as the nurse palpated her neck. "In fact, I've ordered another bottle just for you." Anna grimaced at the news.

Róisín was partly glad when five minutes later Madam Pomfrey shooed her from the wing, muttering about dangerous school curricula and the essentiality of sleep for bone regrowth. She had been worried that Anna would ask about Eóghan again and could not think of how to reply. In fact, the tongue-tying curse could also get her in trouble if the matron asked how she'd been feeling recently. She would have to beg her professors to lift the curse in their meeting that evening.


	12. The Meeting

**A/N**

 **Thanks for sticking with the story so far and to everyone who reviewed :D Particularly** **to pointy-ears98 who left a ridiculously kind and thoughtful review!**

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The stone wings of the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office rose in an arch above Róisín. She hesitated beneath them, cloaked in their shadow like a woman facing the gallows. Suddenly, the gargoyle hopped to the side and with a rumble of worn stone against stone the spiral staircase began moving upwards. The sióg took a deep breath and stepped onto it.

She had not wanted to come. She had considered feigning illness and going to the hospital wing, but she knew her professors would see through it. It was rumoured Snape could read minds. Róisín shivered. Then she clenched her fists. She had to do this. Seeing Anna had filled her with determination to take back control of her magic.

The door at the top was ajar. Róisín knocked lightly before pushing it open. The heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin house were standing in front of the headmaster's desk with Dumbledore seated behind it, the back of his chair so high that it was visible behind his red velvet hat.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," Róisín said, announcing her presence.

The three professors turned to look at her framed in the doorway. Róisín, self-conscious under their gaze, brushed her fingers through the ends of her feral hair. The scene in front of her looked like an illustration from a fairy tale; Professor McGonagall's classic crooked black hat was silhouetted against the flames in the fireplace, Snape's shoulder-length greasy hair cast shadows across his angular face and the silver embroidery of the headmaster's purple robes glimmered in the moonlight from the window. It was apparent that they had been engrossed in conversation.

"Not at all, Miss Feral, come in, come in," Dumbledore exclaimed.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Róisín asked while glancing at her Transfiguration professor, unsure of whether the witch had been told that she was a sióg. McGonagall greeted her with a tight smile.

"Professor McGonagall came tonight to discuss the… difficulties you've been having recently with your course work."

An all-too-familiar heat rose in Róisín's cheeks. Yesterday, in transfiguration class, she had made only feeble attempts to accomplish the spell they were practicing, worried that her hormone-crazy magic would transfigure her partner's robes into something wholly inappropriate. Professor McGonagall must have noticed.

"We thought it imprudent to lie to such a sharp-witted woman," Snape said, "so we informed her of your… situation."

McGonagall shot her colleague a stern look, unamused by his flippancy. She then turned to Róisín, a touch of warmth thawing her icy eyes,

"If you wish to talk about, well, anything that you don't feel comfortable discussing with your male professors," she gave an incline of her head to the two men in the room, "come find me in my office."

"Ok, thank you professor," Róisín replied.

"Well, I will let you get on with it then," McGonagall said as her eyes flicked to Snape, his own diverting to avoid her gaze. Róisín saw a muscle in his jaw tense as if he were clenching his teeth, and there was a hint of colour in his normally ashen cheeks, although it could have been a reflection of the glow from the fire.

"You must be delighted that Miss Battworth has woken," Dumbledore said once McGonagall had left. He gestured to the seat in front of the desk and Róisín sat down.

"Oh yes, I'm over the moon," she replied as a rogue smile broke free at the thought, however the smile vanished when she remembered, "But em, I had an… issue, when I went to see her today."

"Oh?"

"She asked about Eóghan and I couldn't reply because of the tongue-tying curse."

"So it served its purpose," Snape commented dryly.

"She could tell something was up though, I would have been in trouble if Madam Pomfrey hadn't interrupted us." Róisín shifted her weight from one foot to the other before appealing to the headmaster, "I think you should lift the spell, professor, it would be much easier if I just lied."

"That would be true if you were capable of lying convincingly," Snape said as he took the armchair in front of the fire. "You will have to avoid such topics in future."

Róisín gritted her teeth and turned in her seat to address Snape.

"When you say, "such topics" sir, what topics are you referring to?" Snape's eyes darkened and Róisín hurried on, "I mean no disrespect, sir, it's just that, when Anna asked me about Eóghan, I wasn't even going to say anything about being a sióg and the curse still kicked in."

"What did you intend to say?" Snape questioned.

"I suppose just that I didn't, em, find him attractive anymore or something," Róisín mumbled.

"Then we can assume that the lingua ligatum prevents you from discussing your _inclinations_ in general. I do not control the topics you cannot discuss, the curse itself does."

Unease twisted Róisín's stomach.

"You mean, I can't talk about, like, boys I like?" She knew how inane she sounded, how painfully teenage, but at that moment she didn't have the mental capacity to be articulate.

" _Boys_ ," Snape sneered, "men, refrain from talking about anything sexual and stay clear of detailed conversations about your wellbeing."

Róisín's chest tightened. _I'm an eighteen-year-old woman, sex is all I talk about._

"What if my friends bring it up?" _What if_ _ **Anna**_ _brings it up?_ "-sir," she added inelegantly.

"What up?"

"Eh.." Róisín gestured with her hands, searching the air for the words, " _sex," s_ he muttered finally, regretfully.

"Is it a topic you anticipate discussing often?" Snape inquired scornfully, eyebrow raised.

"Em..." Róisín looked to the headmaster for support, who appeared to be trying to hide his amusement at their exchange behind a solemn expression. Róisín guessed from how tight her face felt that she looked comically pained.

"We're teenage girls," she finished under her breath.

"Of that, Miss Feral, I am painfully aware," Snape snarled.

His words were followed by a thick silence. Róisín cleared her throat,

"And, I can't discuss my "general wellbeing" either?"

Dumbledore answered,

"If you feel uneasy, or frustrated, because of your nature as a sióg, you may not discuss it." Róisín wrung her hands together as she listened. "I'm aware that it is a lot to ask of a young woman to keep her feelings hidden from her friends," the headmaster admitted delicately, "however, for reasons we have discussed before, it is of vital importance that what you are remains a secret."

Róisín could not meet the headmaster's bright blue eyes, as if their gazes were magnetic and shared the same pole. She focused instead on the tip of his long, crooked nose, and noticed that the golden bridge of his spectacles was perched so low that it was strange they had not slipped off. The headmaster continued,

"We will have to fabricate an explanation as to why you were unwell, so that Mister McCormack and Madam Pomfrey are not left wondering. In the last few years have you been in any situation where you could have encountered a cursed object?"

"Em, yes actually, last summer I did an internship in the department for the study and protection against bedevilled and blighted magical artefacts."

Dumbledore's snowy eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Excellent, excellent," he declared. "How did you manage to secure an internship at the ministry's most elusive department?"

"Well, em, they offered it to me because I got the highest grade in my year in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy," Róisín answered, hoping she didn't sound conceited.

"And what did they put you up to there?"

"I was kind of like a personal assistant for an unspeakable, Professor Smith, but I wasn't much help to her because she couldn't really tell me anything about what she was doing. Although sometimes she let me do the final preservation charms on the more harmless artefacts she had purged of curses and jinxes-"

Snape interrupted,

"-Et nihil habet servus, quem refert ad rem de obiecti. Est liber: veneno libidinis, quod posset facere ea symptomata."

It took Róisín a moment to realise it was not English but Latin spilling fluently from his lips. She caught only a word, "liber" which she knew to mean "book". Dumbledore paused to listen and then continued,

"I will inform Madam Pomfrey that we have discovered the reason you were mysteriously ill after your encounters with Mister McCormack. I will say it was because you encountered a rare book "Poison of Desire" during your internship." Róisín nodded, unsure of what to say. "Madam Pomfrey is very discreet and will not discuss this with anyone. You should explain this version of events to Mister McCormack, ask him to not share the information, as well as telling him it will take months to cure and therefore it would be best if he looked for a different romantic partner."

Róisín felt a pang of loss as she imagined Eóghan with his arm around another prettier girl, his warm smile stretched above his strong jaw.

"Will do, sir," she replied quietly.

Dumbledore stood from his chair gracefully, his velvet robes swishing as they fell to the ground. Róisín craned her neck to look at the tall wizard, not knowing what would happen next. Then she realised it may appear rude to remain seated and stood abruptly, her chair screeching as it scraped against the stone floor. Dumbledore turned to address the potions professor,

"Severus, inform me when you know."

Snape gave a stiff nod in response. He stared at the empty space in front of him and remained seated. Róisín tore her eyes away from his stark figure. A tree branch was growing rapidly out of a patch of bare stonework on the wall. In seconds it had swelled and spread into a wooden door, through which the headmaster left the study. Róisín continued standing, looking at the newly grown door in confusion. Finally, Snape spoke,

"We have to discern whether you have the same reaction to me as you did with McCormack." In one fluid motion, he stood up and took a step towards her. Instinctively, she took a step backwards, her calves knocking against the chair behind her. Snape raised both his palms in a non-threatening gesture,

"Relax Miss Feral"

"Sorry, sir," Róisín said softly.

He brought his hands back down,

"You might have the same adverse reaction to me as you did to him." His voice was flat, stripped of its usual sneering condescension. Róisín looked down at his dragon-hide boots and fidgeted with her hands, which suddenly felt awkward and misplaced, being attached to the ends of her arms. "I know it will make you feel uncomfortable but to test whether that is the case I will have to embrace you, that is, assuming you still want my help in dealing with your symptoms?" Róisín paused for a tick of an onlooking grandfather clock, then nodded. He took a step towards her and her heart thumped as if it had woken from a deep slumber to beat for the first time. "Inform me immediately if you feel any dizziness or nausea." Róisín nodded again, feeling like she couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

She felt herself shrink several inches as he moved to stand directly in front of her. She fixed her eyes on his chest instead of stretching her neck to watch his face. He reached out and placed a hand on her upper arm. The contact sent a tingle across her skin and she quivered.

"Do you feel faint? Nauseous?"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Just… nothing, sorry, it's fine."

His hand was still on her arm. It felt surprisingly warm through the cotton sleeve of her t-shirt. Then she felt the scratchy fabric of his coat against her face as he closed the precious distance between them and pressed his torso lightly against her. Her heart reacted like a desperate animal, flinging itself against her ribcage. He placed the hand not on her arm against the small of her back. One of his buttons pressed awkwardly against her ear. The wool of his coat smelt fresh and earthy, like a mossy forest floor.

"Are you dizzy?" His deep voice reverberated in his chest and tickled her ear.

"Em… no," she replied, her right cheek still pressed against him. Her head rose and fell as he took a deep breath.

"Ok." He bit out the word as if he were not happy with her response. Róisín's arms hung rigidly by her sides. _Am I supposed to do something?_

He took his hands from her and stepped away. The air felt cold and empty against her front, as if she missed his warmth.

"You're positive you don't feel any of the symptoms you experienced with McCormack?" he questioned.

Róisín knew he wanted her to say that she did, which would mean they couldn't go ahead with this, and a tiny part of her was hurt that he thought the idea of "helping" her in this way was so repellent. _Maybe I should lie._

"Well, I feel very warm" - _that part was true-_ "so I might be getting the fever I got before from…."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"…And… em, I feel a little…queasy."

Róisín met her professor's gaze. He was staring at her as if he could see through her pupils to the thoughts written on the back of her skull. Just as she thought she would never escape those endless black tunnels, he threw his eyes to heaven,

"Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me the truth."

"-I feel OK, nervous, obviously… terrified, actually, but not unwell in the same way as… as before," Róisín mumbled automatically, as if he had force fed her veritaserum with his eyes. _Look at you, jumping to obey like a good little puppy!_ She spat at herself as he continued to analyse her, absorbing every waver of her voice and nervous fidget of her hands. Then he spoke again,

"I presume your magic did not consider that platonic, but I will try again in case it did, with your permission."

Róisín's heart pumped faster. He raised his eyebrows at her impatiently and she realised he was waiting for a response,

"Oh… yeah em… go ahead."

He stepped towards her again, leaned downwards and placed his lips against hers. Róisín felt their dry warmth for a short second before he straightened again.

"Well?"

Róisín fought the desire to touch her lips with her fingers, to check they were still hers.

"I-I don't feel the symptoms, sir."

It was as though the various chattering instruments of Dumbledore's office had hushed to listen to their exchange, only the hands of the old grandfather clock continued to tick loudly and importantly, as if this juncture in the sióg's story was too significant to be left unmeasured.

It was then, as Snape scrutinized her, that Róisín realised it could be dread tightening the lines around his black eyes, that maybe he was afraid, and not disgusted, of what she was and what he would have to do.

Abruptly, he turned from her and pressed an old-style brass bell on the headmaster's desk that Róisín was sure had not been there moments before. An unsettling amusement rose in her like an obscene balloon as she imagined Dumbledore as an inn-keeper who would come and show them to their lodgings. She pressed her lips together to suppress any giggles.

The headmaster entered from the same strange door he had left through. He looked at them questioningly and Snape gave him a reluctant nod.

"Alas, it appears that the myth is true." Dumbledore placed a wizened hand on his chair. "A sióg can only engage with exceptionally powerful wizards." As though in response, the most beautiful, inhuman tone rang softly through the room, echoing the sadness in the old wizard's voice. Róisín turned to see great blood-red wings, glinting with gold, glide by. Their owner, a brilliant, swan-sized bird, landed on a bronze stand beside her as delicately as a butterfly fluttering onto a leaf. "This is Fawkes, curious as ever," Dumbledore explained, "he has never met a sióg before."

"I've never met a phoenix before," Róisín replied, breathless.

The phoenix tilted his head this way and that, its black, pupil-less eyes inspecting her. Róisín felt heat rise from its feathers.

"Magical creatures are fond of sióga, perhaps because you share a similar kind of magic," Dumbledore remarked.

"A primal kind," Snape muttered.

Róisín, transfixed by the immortal creature, raised her hand slowly. The phoenix rubbed its crested head against her palm, its feathers warm and soft.

"It's important that you decide on a time in the coming week to meet with Professor Snape, as your magical control has already begun to slip away."

Róisín whipped her head around,

"N-Next week?"

"Would that inconvenience you?" Snape asked, his caustic sarcasm making her flinch.

"Em no, of course not."

"When are you available?"

"I don't mind." Róisín felt the blood rise to her cheeks. _That made no sense._

"Thursday?" he suggested, his voice cold and flat.

"Ok"

"I understand this situation is not easy for you Miss Feral, and I appreciate the maturity you have displayed," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Of course, it is perfectly OK if you decide you no longer want Professor Snape's help in the matter. If that is the case then you will spend time in the hospital wing until we discover another solution, so that you remain safe."

 _He means so his students can remain safe,_ her mind bit at her.

"I understand, professor."

"Well, I'm sure your bed in Ravenclaw tower is calling out to you, and we won't keep you from it any longer, especially since it's a chilly night and the house elves will be placing bed warmers in the highest dormitories," Dumbledore said happily as he rubbed his hands together. Róisín noticed that the fire had crumbled to embers and the air was sharp.

"Ok, thank you." Róisín glanced around for her satchel, remembered she hadn't brought it and turned to leave. "Good night, professors."

"Good night" she heard the headmaster reply as she closed the door to his office softly behind her. Only when she was halfway up the stairs to Ravenclaw tower did she remember that she hadn't asked about her essay.


	13. The Grey Book

**A/N** **Special thanks to Maiden of the Heavens for her kind encouragement :D**

* * *

It was Tuesday evening. Róisín was huddled in her favourite nook of the library, hidden by books stacked high on the table. Outside, the wind wailed as it whipped at the castle walls, the sound making her squishy armchair feel particularly snuggly.

She brought her magnifying glass over the runic scripture she was studying, causing the runes to curve with the shape of the lens. Was that hieroglyph a clawed animal, or some kind of tree? She dragged her textbook, "Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms", from across the table to in front of her, sighing with the effort. Her fingers traced the silver gilding on the cover, swirling as they ran over the ancient patterns.

She opened the book under "Common runes used in Britannia and Hibernia in the 12th Century" and found "Magical Creatures". Beginning at the top of the list, she skimmed over the various symbols for acromantulas, albatrostals, anguisettes, aranaccios, asaliths, ashwinders, … she hadn't even gone past the A's before her attention wandered over to a whispering group of seventh year Slytherins. She spotted Zoltan Kun, the student she had been ogling when Snape rebuked her. The memory made her grimace. Zoltan's tall torso stood out, his black hair shimmering a head above his peers'. Róisín dragged her attention back to the list …augureys, basilisks, baumidgers, bicorns, bluecaps…. Her neck hurt from repeatedly looking back and forth between the strange spiky symbol she was looking for and the symbols listed beside the creatures.

…bowtruckles, brownies, bundimuns…

She rubbed her eyes, trying to dislodge the sleepiness that had settled over her like a warm, fluffy blanket. She did not have time to sleep, with only five months until their NEWTS exams, the professors had begun shovelling homework onto the seventh years as if clearing snow. Sighing, Róisín looked away from her runes textbook to the "to-do" list she had scrawled for the week:

 _Ancient Runes_ _: Translation from 1143 Scottish church_

 _Defence_ _: Practice dissimulation defence charm; Essay on inferi; Essay on the origins of the patronus charm_

 _Potions_ _: Essay on inter-species Polyjuice variation_

 _Astronomy_ _: Predict the movements of Alpha Centauri star system for the next billion years; essay on most-promising Goldilocks planets for extra-terrestrial life_

 _Arithmancy_ _: Calculate probability of exposure of the wizarding world using the numerology techniques of Bridget Wenlock, Fan Zhou, and Bashshar Bishara (remember to compare results!)_

 _Charms_ _: In-class test tomorrow on: Atmospheric charms; Hand-held flame charm; Bird-conjuring charm. STUDY!_

 _Transfiguration_ _: essay on famous Metamorphmagi; essay on Gamp's Law; practice conjuring mice (! NB research principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance to avoid conjuring hybrid creatures or_ _severed heads_ _!)_

 _Care of Magical Creatures_ _: Draw diagrams showing differences between Norwegian Ridgebacks and Hungarian Horntails; update report on Bumbly (ask Snape for ointment for the scrape on his leg)_

Róisín rested her head in her hands. Her note on Bumbly, the thestral foal, had reminded her of the two people who had been scurrying in her head all week, gnawing at her thoughts: Eóghan, and the fact she had yet to tell him that they could no longer see each other, and Professor Snape. She knew she had to meet the potions master on Thursday ( ** _two days away_** – she thought anxiously) to have sex (her skin warmed at the thought), but she didn't know exactly what needed to happen or how it needed to happen. Pushing away her mountain of homework, she decided to look for answers. Róisín hoisted herself up from her armchair. Her stiff back and legs creaked from being still for too long. Flinging a furtive glance around the room, she slid in between the towering bookshelves and stopped at the section "Magical Beings".

She knew no-one could discover her researching sióga, if they did, the knowledge of what she was could reach He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Róisín's toes curled. Before the headmaster had told her in person that He had returned, she hadn't really believed it, but now she was certain He was out there somewhere, festering with evil schemes. The knowledge was a foul, lingering smell that followed her around, freezing the marrow in her bones.

The shelves on either side of her leaned forwards as they climbed upwards so that the tips of the highest books on either side almost touched, like an ancient street of terraced houses. She trailed her fingers over the spines of the books. New, yellowed, thin, thick, drab, colourful… they seemed to whisper to her, fighting for her attention,

 _Me, pick me! I know the secrets._

Her eyes skimmed the titles, "The Downfall of Urg the Unclean", "Notable Battles of the 1752 Great Goblin Rebellion", "Magical Metalsmithing of the Bogrod Clan". She took a few steps away from the goblin section and kept looking, her eyes straining in the dim light, "Veela Hair Properties and Uses", "Slavic Beauty: A History of the Veela".

Róisín didn't find any mention of sióga when she flicked through, "Modern Magical Beings; A Classification" or "Asteriae Celestical and Alseides Land Nymphs". In "Wood and Plant Nymphs of Western Europe" there were a few words: " _Sióga._ _Origin_ _: Chiarraí, Éire._ _Class_ _: Human/Nymph._ _Also known as:_ _Fairy (not to be confused with winged fairies of the Imp class), Fae, Keeper of the Stag"._

Thinking she would never find what she was looking for, Róisín pulled a rather fresh, stiff book, "The Human Definition" from the shelf and slumped onto the floor. She opened it a couple of pages in,

"… _.as evidenced by the recent publication of Rud Traunt's work "The Muggle Problem", there is no doubt there will always exist out-spoken extremists who campaign for the classification of Muggles as Beasts, however, they will remain few and far between. Quoting the famous philosopher Nikolas Flamel:_

 _"_ _It is obvious to anyone not blinded by hate that it is not magical potency that distinguish beasts from beings, but rather compassion. Surely the most captivating dragon, the pearly Antipodean Opaleye, is the most magical of living things while also the most ferocious of beasts."_

 _In 1811, Minister for Magic Gorgan Stump signed into law decree 539.2: "Humans, from muggles, to squibs, to wizards and the magically mature are beings, and as such, have the right to be treated…"_

There was that phrase again, "magically mature". Róisín tapped her foot. Maybe focusing on this would lead to answers. She clambered to her feet and slid "The Human Definition" back onto its shelf.

The long, hooked nose of Madam Pince peaked out from a corner. Róisín gave the hawkish librarian a small, innocent smile as the older witch peered at her as if she were a rodent she had discovered among the biscuits in her cupboard. After finding nothing about Róisín's activities she could reprimand, she stalked away without comment. Róisín sighed.

A long, tedious hour later, Róisín's search had born fruit. In "Powerful Wizards and Witches through-out the Ages" a dusty, grey volume with pages so loose Róisín was sure they were in a different order now than when she had first opened it, she found a chapter on "The Evolving Definition of what it means to be Magically Mature" and settled down to get lost in it.

* * *

"WHAT do you think you're doing!"

Róisín jumped. "Powerful Wizards and Witches through-out the Ages" slipped from her grip to the floor with a booming slap. She looked up to the furious eyes of Madam Pince, heart pumping like a tiny field mouse with a hawk diving towards it.

"Sorr-"

"-It is TWO HOURS past curfew!"

Róisín flinched and scrambled to her feet,

"Sorry- I, eh, lost track of-"

"-Detention! This is unacceptable, from a final year student no less! Thursday evening, eight o'clock."

"I can't I have em, a meeting-" Madam Pince's eyes widened as if Róisín had spat a filthy insult. "…I mean, yes of course, madam. Thursday at eight, I'll be here" Róisín picked up the book, "Could I…"

A stamp appeared in the air, hovering like a bee. Róisín opened the front cover and the stamp pressed itself to the page underneath faded ink from decades ago.

"I hope you're familiar with Friedrick's Fractional Sorting System or you'll be here late into the night on Thursday!" Madam Pince warned.

"I'll em, brush up," Róisín mumbled as she hurried away from the witch's glare and out of the library.

* * *

Winter light inched up the blue and bronze quilt covering Róisín's bed. Outside, the foolhardy birds who had stayed to brave the Scottish winter chased each other around the roof of Ravenclaw tower, singing loudly to herald the dawn. Róisín sat against the headboard, perched over the dusty, grey book as if it were the lost Gospel of Eve.

She had not slept, instead she had read and re-read the book's description of "magically mature" wizards all night.

Unfurling like a waking ferret, Róisín climbed off her bed and went to her modest bathroom to prepare for the day. She had Charms in two hours, and she groaned as she realised she had not practiced the spells Professor Flitwick would test them on. She wondered if she could grab one of those annoying chirpy birds from outside and produce it in class as if she had summoned it.

* * *

Róisín spotted Anna waiting outside the Charms classroom. She skipped over to her and began chatting, delighted that Madam Pomfrey had finally released her best friend from the hospital wing.

After the mini class test, Flitwick commented that Róisín had lots of magical potential, but perhaps needed to work on her precision. Her atmospheric charm aimed at increasing the humidity to that of a forest had turned the room into a sauna, her hand-held flame charm had burnt her professor's eyebrows off, and, after explaining how she would conjure a sparrow, she had instead conjured a huge ostrich, which had ran around the classroom knocking over desks and chairs. Ida's magnificent peacock and Anna's pair of snow-white swans had chirped at her blundering ostrich with disdain.

As Róisín headed to lunch with her friends she hoped desperately that after Thursday her magical control would return.

* * *

"I dunno Anna, I'm so far behind on study..."

"Come on! We said we would in our final year. What do we have to lose?"

"Everything! If they find out we could get expelled, then we can't take our NEWTS…"

"We won't be, we're all above seventeen, we're allowed drink-"

"-Not in school!"

"Ok, fine! No alcohol, just music and dancing. Flitwick loves his final years, he'd never throw us out for having a teeny party."

Anna's blue eyes glittered with their trade-mark mischief and a rosy glow lit her cheeks. It was bizarre that just a week ago she was on the brink of death and now she was enthusiastically convincing Róisín to have a nineteenth birthday party.

Róisín was a year older than the other seventh years. Eight years ago, when a strange letter had arrived in the Feral family mailbox stating that Róisín had been accepted into a school of "witchcraft and wizardry" her parents had been sceptical. Her father was a maths teacher and her mother was a social worker. They had surrounded Róisín from an early age with books on history, physics and maths hoping to instil her with a critical mind. They had insisted that Róisín go to a muggle secondary school for a year while they researched exactly what kind of institution "Hogwarts" was. After meeting personally with Professor McGonagall, they had eagerly set out to Diagonally with Róisín and the next September they had said goodbye to her at platform nine and three quarters with faces of excitement that rivalled those of the children around them. These days her father sent her regular letters asking questions on the mysteries of reality she had learnt about recently.

All around them streams of conversation and splashes of laughter lit up the great hall. Róisín cleaned the last of her split-pea soup off her bowl with a piece of sourdough bread as she tried to think of a good excuse not to have the party. Obviously, she couldn't tell Anna the truth, that she was too preoccupied with her upcoming sexual relations with the most terrifying professor at Hogwarts to think twice about a party.

"Ok, ok, we can have the party," she relented finally. Anna clenched her fists in playful triumph. "But we have to put silencing spells all around the common room so the younger students don't wake up."

"Well of course, we wouldn't want to disturb their precious sleep with our boisterous frivolity!" Anna teased, imitating the deputy head's Scottish lilt.

* * *

The Scottish Highlands had tilted away from the winter sun hours ago and now the air in the Arithmancy classroom was biting. Róisín rubbed her hands together and breathed into them.

Professor Vector was scrawling equations onto the blackboard beneath spinous lettering stating today's topic, " _Advanced Numerology from the 21_ _st_ _Century"._ Róisín rested her chin in her palm and stared with glazed eyes at a peeling chart of Babylonian numerals hanging high on the wall. The Arithmancy classroom was a circular room at the top of the north-east tower. The room was so small and the walls stretched so high that Róisín felt as though they were sitting at the bottom of a deep well.

"The Japanese arithmancers do not focus on individuals, as they believe collective trends and outcomes are paramount, however the French school of thought often concentrates on particular atypical people and how they disrupt the patterns in their world, today we will…"

Róisín paid little attention to Professor Vector's lecture, instead, she imagined her potions professor's black-clad form popping into far-away lands; into the rich colours of India, the dusty outback of Australia, and landing beside the American flag on the moon. Last night, Róisín had learnt from the grey book that the ability to apparate great distances was a skill associated with the magically mature. She had also learnt they could often control animals, speak multiple languages and perform powerful wordless and wandless magic. There had even been legends of wizards flying without a broom.

Could Snape do all these things? She imagined asking him and squirmed at the thought. The aim of her research last night had been to make her less nervous about meeting him tomorrow but instead it had made her feel even more intimidated than before.

"...for example, if we apply Dubois' transform to the student body…"

Róisín could hardly hear her professor's voice over the buzz of questions swarming her head. Would Snape kiss her? Or would he go straight to the main event? Would they see each other naked? Would it hurt?

"…we could find outliers in the population, perhaps students with unusual hobbies or talents, or particularly powerful young wizards. The Ergodic projector, a later addition to Dubois' equations, would highlight a student with an unusual background, with veela blood for instance…"

Róisín felt her heart accelerate. Maybe she had completely misunderstood what was supposed to happen with Snape tomorrow night. Maybe they would just sleep on the same bed for a couple of hours and her magical control would come back.

"…not forgetting to include the division to compensate for the multiplication of universes at step seven…."

Róisín ran her hand through her hair as Professor Vector's chalk continued to scrap against the blackboard. Did wizards have sex in a different way to muggles? Were there any spells she needed to know?

"…it is always prudent to check and see if your result is reasonable. In this case I must have forgotten to carry the…"

The sióg snapped her gaze onto the Arithmancy professor, who was searching the blackboard for a mistake in her calculations. Weird. Vector hadn't made a mistake in the five years of Róisín being in her class, in which Róisín had seen her perform thousands of calculations.

" …this outlier is … not probable…"

Vector normally spoke to the class clearly and precisely but now she muttered under her breath. Behind her, Róisín recognised the posh drawl of the Slytherin Marchand whispering to Zoltan Kun,

"It's definitely Potter who messed up the equations, it's always bleedin' Potter."

There was silence as Vector appraised the Greek letters which were the result of her calculations. Then, she turned and surveyed the class. Her eyes stilled as they looked in Róisín's direction.

"Well, that's all for today," Vector stated abruptly, "perhaps the population size was too small to implement such a method, I will research this possibility and discuss it next time." The professor spoke loudly but her voice faltered as if she did not believe her own words. Róisín felt her neck become sticky as she looked around at her peers. _Did she look at me? Did the transform reveal what I am?_

Vector exited the classroom with uncharacteristic haste, her ruby red robes rippling behind her. The bewildered students muttered as they followed her down the steep spiral staircase and went towards their respective dormitories.

* * *

"What do you breathe life to and receive life from?"

Róisín slumped against the wall and stared at the golden eagle knocker with disdain.

"Em… plants"

The walnut door swung open, and Róisín sighed with relief. Fantasizing about her bed, she made straight for the stairs but was stopped by a pair of big blue eyes popping in front of her.

"Hey, how was arithmancy?" Anna asked cheerfully.

"Ugh, fine, but I wanna sleep," Róisín mumbled. Her friend frowned.

"I was hoping we could organize the party tonight, it could be fun."

"I'm exhausted, Anna."

"But it's eight o'clock?"

"I didn't sleep last night," Róisín snapped.

"Oh, how come?" Anna asked, taken aback. Róisín averted her eyes as she tried to think of a lie she could tell, knowing the tongue-tie curse wouldn't let her talk about the grey book.

"I couldn't stop thinking about that horror movie, you know the one with the well? The one you forced me to watch with you?"

"Oh yeah." Her best friend bit her lip. "Sorry about that, we could have a sleepover tonight if you want?"

"No, it's fine." Hurt tugged at the corners of Anna's lips. "Sorry, I don't mean to be grumpy, I'm just tired," Róisín said dismissively.

"Ok, well see you tomorrow then."

Róisín rushed up the stairs to her room. She had been surprised by her own rudeness. It was Anna's first night back from the hospital and she had probably expected them to stay up late discussing everything that was going on inside and outside the castle. Her eyes stung with guilty tears. It felt like her secret was tearing her apart.


	14. Snape's Chambers

It was deep into the starry night. A draft from the crack in Róisín's dormitory window chilled her feet which had poked out from under the covers. At the same time, her feet padded against a cool, silk, Persian carpet as she ran through her dream.

The rich reds and golden yellows of the carpet swirled delightfully in front of her, lighting her way down a dark Hogwarts corridor. She noticed that the sinuous patterns formed puzzling erotic shapes which disturbed and enticed her. She hurried on.

Turning a corner, she stopped when she saw a tall, cloaked figure walking towards her. His face was a mix of sharp, pale angles surrounded by stringy shadow. Róisín recognized him.

 _This is my world._

Her lower abdomen glowing sweetly, Róisín strode towards the dark man, grabbed a fist of his robes, and dragged him until he was pinning her against a cushioned wall. Sparks of excitement leapt from her skin. She kissed and rubbed against him with lots of enthusiasm and little skill, but she could barely feel him and he did not respond. She groaned with frustration.

Then, rapid as a dog bite, the wizard grabbed her wrists and shoved them against the wall. The pain was sharp. Suddenly, she was naked. Before, she had been wearing nothing at all, but now her nudity was obscene.

She tried to wriggle against him, but his strong body immobilized her. He stepped away and began to unbuckle his trousers.

Róisín made to run, but could not move. She was frozen against the wall.

 _No. This is **my** world. _

The man's vague crooked features morphed continuously into caricatures of anger, disgust, indifference, lust, and disdain, yet his movements were steady. He grabbed her waist roughly and pressed himself against her.

 _NO_

Every inch of Róisín's paralysed body screamed for help, but not even a whisper escaped. The man grabbed in-between her legs and a fiery pain shot through her.

 _WAKE UP_

Róisín knew that in the real world, the one where she lay asleep on her bed, the laws of physics would break at any second and every indivisible particle of her body would explode from the effort of trying to wake up.

But they didn't.

After an age passed, the dark man dissolved away and Róisín tumbled from the nightmare into a deeper sleep.

When she woke in the morning her pillow was damp with tears.

* * *

The Great Hall rumbled with the munching and crunching of students enjoying their breakfasts. A glistening fried egg stared up at Róisín like a golden-eyed cyclops. Her stomach grimaced.

"Are you alright, Róisín?" Ida asked with a frown, "you look a little pale."

"Yeah, just not hungry." Ida gave her a small smile before turning to Anna to discuss their Herbology project. Róisín began to sweat with nausea as they described in vivid detail the various fungi infecting their African spider ivy. She sipped her tea to distract herself and winced as the boiling liquid burnt her tongue.

She had to meet Snape tonight.

Róisín glanced at the high table but the potion professor's seat was vacant. She took another painful sip of tea.

* * *

Róisín tapped her heel against the stone floor as she waited for her last class of the day to begin. Her earlier classes had passed in a blur, she had barely paid attention and hadn't been able to summon her usual chatty self with her friends. She pretended to read her tattered, second-hand copy of "Advanced Potion Making" while glancing intermittently at the open door of the dungeon classroom.

The door shimmered like the air above a tarmacadam road on a blistering day. Róisín watched the shimmering move up the aisle between the students' workbenches. Then, at the top of the class, a blot of what looked like shiny black paint appeared hovering in the air. The paint trickled down to reveal dark tendrils of hair and an angular face as the potions professor dripped into view, as though he were being formed by liquid poured over a transparent, Snape-shaped mould. The students' chattering died as the rest of the class noticed their professor.

It was icy in the dungeons. The students' breaths rose from their mouths like steam from a dragon's nostrils. But Róisín was hot. Her eyes avoided Snape as if the sight of him burned. He began lecturing them on magical concealment methods and his foul mood bled into the vigour with which he interrogated his victims. Róisín hoped desperately that he wouldn't call on her for an answer. Finally, he told them to begin brewing their invisibility potions. Róisín scanned the ingredient list in her textbook:

 _Shredded skin of Anguisette - 1.5 oz._

 _Armadillo bile - 1 fl. oz._

 _Powdered bone of Baumidger -2 oz._

 _Cannabis leaf -0.1 oz._

 _Chopped Cherries - 2.5 oz._

 _Veiled Chameleon tongue - 1 in._

 _Cow's Milk - 1 pt._

 _Fern moss - 4 oz._

 _5 Ghost Mantis Legs -_

 _1 Mossy Leaf-Tail Gecko eye -_

 _Peppered Moths - 1 oz._

 _Spinach - 4 oz._

 _Tobacco leaf - 1 oz._

 _Thestral hair - 6 in._

"Obviously the cannabis is not in the store cupboard and neither is the thestral hair nor the anguisette skin," Snape drawled. "I will hand each of you the exact amount of these required at my desk." Róisín's heart raced at the prospect of this small interaction. "If any of the cannabis somehow escapes your potion the consequences will be severe." Snape glared at the Weasley twin's best friend, Jordan, as if he had already stuffed the drug into his pockets.

Róisín avoided her professor's eyes as she approached his desk. Her hands trembled when he handed her the vials of expensive ingredients.

Soon the classroom began to fill with bubbles as the students added the armadillo bile to the curdling cow's milk. Róisín winced as a hot bubble of bile burst against her chin. She squinted at the complicated brewing instructions on the splattered page, but her thoughts were swimming with the memory of Snape kissing her in Dumbledore's office and imaginings of them together later that night. Her head ached.

"Surely, we can skip the step, "taste the crushed moths to determine their sweetness"?" Róisín asked Ida while wiping her chin with disgust.

"Ugh, I hope so," Ida replied with a shudder as she glanced back at the instructions. "Don't worry, Róisín, it says taste the _cherries_ to determine their sweetness and _grind_ the moths," she corrected.

"Thank Olympus," Róisín muttered.

Finally, her potion was thick and mossy green. She placed the tobacco and cannabis leaves in a small stone bowl beside her cauldron. Then, she lit the leaves and covered both the bowl and the cauldron with a hemispherical glass cover to allow the smoke to infuse the liquid.

Snape had instructed them to leave once they had finished this step as the potion had to stew overnight. Róisín had been so distracted while brewing that most of her classmates had already left. Only three other students remained, Anthony Atkinson, a perfectionist in all academic endeavours even for a Ravenclaw, Zoltan Kun, and Lee Jordan. Róisín watched the latter shoot Snape a nervous glance as he placed his glass cover over his potion with lightning speed, making sure not a particle of burnt cannabis was lost. Róisín stole a glance at Kun. He looked uncharacteristically weary, with his head in his hands and his tall frame hunched over his textbook.

Kun lifted his head and Róisín hastily looked back at her potion, feigning interest in the smoke accumulating under the glass cover. She was dawdling. Before she left she had to ask Snape when to meet him that evening. Reluctantly, she began packing her things into her satchel.

Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps towards her professor. A crash erupted behind her. Róisín flung around. Jordan was standing over a shattered glass jar with hairy mantis legs strewn around it.

"20 points from Gryffindor," Snape stated coolly without looking up from his writing. Róisín hesitated, wondering if Jordan needed help cleaning the mess. "Are you going to stand there all day, Miss Feral?" Snape asked, his quill still scratching across the parchment. Róisín gave another start, she hadn't realised he'd noticed her.

"Em, no sir, sorry." She turned and scurried from the room, the little courage she had taking flight like a sparrow escaping a cat.

Serpentine carvings twisted along the damp stone walls of Salazar Slytherin's labyrinth as if they were chasing Róisín away. Her eyes stung. _Ugh, why couldn't I be a brave Gryffindor?_ She reached the top of the steep, little-known, "Snacker's Staircase" and was hit by the syrupy aromas of Helga Hufflepuff's kitchen corridor. She barely registered the paintings of musicians and dancers calling out to her, the trick steps she avoided by habit, the suits of armour dipping their helmets and the tiny wizards and witches parting for her on revolving staircases. They were all blurred by her tears.

For the first time in seven and a half years Róisín wished the owl carrying her Hogwarts letter had lost its way.

 _No, it would have been awful if he'd been injured or something but-_

"Hey, Feral, wait up!" a deep voice called out. Róisín turned around in confusion. Zoltan Kun was bounding up the marble staircase towards her. She hastily rubbed her eyes with her sleeves. She must have been mistaken earlier, he didn't look a bit tired now.

"Hey Kun," she replied shyly. She hadn't thought the popular Slytherin even knew her name.

"We're having a snowball fight, Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, you interested?"

"Em…" Róisín bit her lip and glanced out the window. The colours in the stain-glass were swirling with the shadows of the falling snow.

"Come on, Feral, I heard you know a handy bombardio jinx," Kun teased smoothly. The tall Slytherin was standing very close to her. She started to blush.

"It's just… der's a lot'a work I have to do." Róisín didn't meet his eyes as she spoke, overly aware of how her coarse Dublin accent contrasted with his more refined British one.

"All right, all the better for us Slytherins, you'll have to show me that bombardio jinx another time." He smiled at her and sauntered away. Róisín felt disorientated as she watched his retreating form. What was that about?

Shaking her head, she turned away and hurried through the castle. She knew she had to go back to the dungeons to ask Snape about meeting him later that night, but her feet were refusing to take her. She found herself instead in the most luxurious part of the castle, near the Gryffindor common room. The plush oriental carpet beneath her reminded her of something, but she couldn't think clearly with the stress bubbling inside her like the bile-green blisters of her invisibility potion. If only she could drink some and disappear.

What would happen if she didn't go to the potions professor tonight, would he find her instead? Would he be angry? Would Dumbledore insist she stop practicing magic for good?

She needed to talk to Anna more than ever. She hadn't even apologised to her yet for being so snarky last night and she felt awkward bringing it up without being able to speak freely. _Fuck Snape and his fucking tongue-tying curse._

But there _was_ a woman she could talk to.

Róisín found herself staring at the carved lioness on the door of Professor McGonagall's study. She hesitated before giving the door two soft knocks. The wooden feline purred as it extended out from the door to rub its varnished ears against Róisín's palm.

* * *

"Come in," came McGonagall's voice.

The head of Gryffindor was seated at her desk, piles of essays stacked neatly around her and a fire glowing behind, its warmth welcoming Róisín like an embrace. McGonagall looked up and laid down her quill, as though she had expected to see her. "Miss Feral, what can I do for you?"

"Em…" Róisín shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It's about-" She choked. It was as if the air had been hoovered from her throat.

McGonagall lurched from her chair, wand in hand.

"What's wrong child?" Róisín attempted to reassure her, but instead made a raw, croaky sound. "Did someone silence you?" McGonagall pressed. Róisín found she could no longer nod but her eyes widened in affirmation. The round alarm in the lines around McGonagall's eyes sharpened. "I'll summon the potions master so he can allow you to speak with me."

"No, nevermind -" Róisín exclaimed.

"- Nonsense! It'll only take a moment," McGonagall assured her. "It was short-sighted of me to not realise he would have silenced you." She sat down and dipped her quill into a pot of glittery, neon-green ink, wrote on a piece of parchment, and flicked it into the fire. She gestured for Róisín to sit.

A few awkward minutes passed where McGonagall asked about Róisín's studies, however she didn't mention her slipping transfiguration grades, for which Róisín was grateful. Suddenly a small, rolled scroll flew from the fire and McGonagall snatched it from the air. Róisín flinched at the abrupt movement.

"He'll arrive momentarily," McGonagall said after reading the scroll. Róisín tensed.

A whoosh of air blew from the fireplace as it erupted into garish green flames, and outstepped the potions professor, tall, thin and black-clad like a shadow at dusk.

"Good evening, Severus," McGonagall greeted and Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement. Róisín gave him a timid nod which he saw but chose to ignore.

"You require my services?" he asked in a tone which implied he had more important things to be doing.

"Yes, Miss Feral wants to discuss some things with me which a tongue-tying curse won't allow her to speak of," McGonagall said. "Presumably it is _your_ tongue-tying curse?"

"It is," Snape replied, sliding his eyes onto Róisín, who promptly averted her own to her lap. There was a pause.

"Could you lift it regarding myself?" McGonagall asked, her tone rigid.

"I could."

"Excellent-"

"- However," Snape continued, "the more individuals allowed into the tie, the weaker it will become."

"I'm confident it will remain strong enough, coming from a powerful wizard such as yourself," McGonagall countered. Róisín bit her cheeks to stop herself smiling. She saw Snape stiffen from the corner of her eye.

"Nevertheless, it would be unnecessary to lift the tie now, as I know why Miss Feral has sought you out," Snape replied. "Presumably she intended to approach me but believed doing so would draw attention to herself… since for the past six years she has avoided my person like the plague." He let his words sink in before adding, "so she came to you instead."

Róisín continued to study her hands in her lap. She now understood why the word "mortify" came from the Latin "to put to death".

"I have no idea why she would, Severus, you're clearly the most approachable of the teaching staff," McGonagall replied dryly. "Anyway, I told Miss Feral that she was free to discuss her concerns regarding this arrangement with myself and I intend to keep my word."

Róisín swallowed. The two most formidable Hogwarts professors were sparring right in front of her. _Anna would cry laughing if I told her._

"Stand," Snape ordered. Róisín got to her feet so promptly it was as if his command were laced with an imperious. McGonagall's lips pursed.

Then the black tip of Snape's wand was pressing against Róisín's bottom lip.

"Libera lingua quia McGonagall"

Róisín's tongue vibrated with his magic.

"Well, is Professor Snape's assumption correct?" McGonagall asked.

"Eh, yeah, it is Professor," Róisín lied.

"And what did you intend to ask him?"

"Just em, what time he wanted me to meet him tonight, and where."

"My office," Snape stated. Róisín turned to him,

"And, em… when?"

"Whenever"

"Oh, so after supper or…"

"I refuse to summon you at an exact time like a -"

He didn't finish his sentence, but disgust twisted the harsh lines of his face. Róisín felt like she'd been slapped.

"Miss Feral, you are excused, feel free to visit me when you wish," McGonagall said, breaking the awful silence.

Róisín left the room with Snape's unspoken slur ringing in her ears.

* * *

McGonagall's expression was as tight as her hair-bun.

"I realise how difficult this must be for you-"

"- With respect, Minerva, you do not."

Her lips formed a thin line, but Snape's cold gaze was steady.

"I must request you be kinder to her."

"And **I** would request that you do not undermine my authority by summoning me like a bold child." His voice rose from a whisper to a snarl.

"Surely in this circumstance, Severus, it would be best to not emphasise said authority in front of the young woman."

"I did not ask for this."

"I wasn't implying you had," McGonagall stated.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, as if steeling themselves to duel.

"If there is nothing else?" Snape snapped.

McGonagall shook her head and Snape swept from the room.

* * *

Róisín ate her supper like a zombie. Ida and Anna had gone to the greenhouses to check on their African spider ivy and Róisín had taken the opportunity to sneak down to the Great Hall early so she wouldn't have to chat with them. The students around her were raving about the muffin topped beef stew the Hogwarts elves were famous for, but it felt slimy and tasteless as it slid down her throat.

Back in her room, Róisín dug out an old, somewhat rusty disposable razor from a corner of her closet. It was of the kind she used to use before she had learnt the depilation charm. It was a tricky charm and she worried that her nerves might cause her to mess it up and pluck herself completely bald, which was not how she wanted to meet Snape.

When she finally emerged from the shower in a cloud of hot steam her skin was pink from scrubbing and her legs were smooth. She passed her full-length mirror and paused, dropping her towel and stepping back to confront her reflection. Her eyes wandered over her naked figure, hungrily picking out every imperfection, her short legs, square hips, breasts and nipples too large for her small frame, freckles sprinkled not just prettily on her nose but all over her face, her straight eyelashes which were too short to curl, her lower lip which was a bit too big and her upper lip which was a bit too small. She sighed and stepped back. She knew she was being hard on herself. Anna had once overheard a Gryffindor in their year tell his friend, "that Feral girl's well fit" and Eóghan had called her pretty. He had whispered in her ear how her eyes sparkled when she smiled, how her high cheekbones stood out, how he couldn't stop thinking about her tiny waist and round behind…

She couldn't think about Eóghan. That would make tonight impossible. She buried the Scottish boy deep in her mind and got dressed, pretending it was the steam that caused her eyes to water.

It was still early evening so she decided to study for a while before going to meet Snape, and as she looked at the textbooks strewn around her room her eyes fell on the grey book.

" **Fuuck**!" she cursed. She had forgotten her detention. A glance at her alarm clock told her she was already fifteen minutes late. She grabbed her wand and sprinted down the stairs into the common room, out the walnut door, and down the Ravenclaw spiral staircase.

"Róisín, what's wrong!?"

Róisín looked back and saw Anna and Ida, but she didn't slow as she huffed out,

"Detention, late, I'll explain later!"

She found Madam Pince in the "European Herbology" section of the library, restacking books.

"I'm so sorry, Madam!" Róisín spluttered, gasping for breath. The librarian looked cross but not surprised, as though such tardiness was what she had expected, and began listing the jobs she had for her.

For the next three hours Róisín reorganised a whole row of bookshelves in the "Poisonous Parapsychological Plants" section, which had been jumbled by "blasphemous, meddling students". When she finally left the library, her arms hurt from stacking books and her head hurt from deciphering the illogical numbering of Friedrick's sorting system. Her feet felt like lead as they dragged her towards Snape's office.

* * *

It was late. The darkness thickened as she descended the countless steps into the dungeons, where there were no windows to let in the starlight. Far too soon, she was staring at his office door. She knocked.

"Enter"

The door flew open. Snape was standing behind his desk, leaning on it with the tips of his fingers. Hundreds of glass jars lined the walls, filled with bits of plants and animals floating in potions of varying colours, which made him look like a cashier in an old-style sweet shop.

"Good evening, professor"

"Did anyone see you?" he asked abruptly.

"Em… I don't think– "

"Not even ghosts?"

"I'm not sure."

He paused before stating curtly,

"It's past curfew."

"Sorry, I em… had a detention, sir."

"With whom?"

"Madam Pince, I stayed too late in the library yesterday." Róisín clenched her teeth, waiting for him to reprimand her. Instead he straightened and said,

"I'll show you to my chambers." He strode towards a tall cupboard. Róisín didn't move. "Unless you'd prefer for us to stay here?" His eyes swept to the desk and Róisín's eyes followed. A pink heat rose in her cheeks.

Snape opened the cupboard and entered the passageway it had concealed. Róisín followed with quick steps to keep up with his long stride. The narrow corridor lead into a cavernous room with walls that looked as though water had carved them from rock over millennia. Róisín jumped as a fire roared into life in the fireplace.

She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

 _Remember it is not your responsibility to break every silence you find yourself in._

"Wow… em, this room is impressive," she said.

"Salazar Slytherin liked to impress."

"Oh, these were his chambers?"

Snape paused, looking at her.

"…I _am_ the Head of Slytherin."

"Sorry, of course, I'm being stupid."

He didn't argue with her, instead he turned and began to take off his infamous black cloak. The innocuous act made her legs wobble like a new-born foal.

"Em… sir, may I use your bathroom?"

He inclined his head and gestured towards a door on her right. Róisín walked at a natural pace to the door, although her jerky movements betrayed her urge to flee. Once inside, she felt the tingling need to pee which must have been a result of her anxiety as she had used the toilet before heading to the dungeons. After releasing a meagre amount of urine, Róisín slowly washed her hands. She stood staring at the dark wood of the door, begging her hands to reach for it. She let out a long shaky breath. _Do not cry. Do NOT cry. DO NOT CRY._ She scrunched her eyes and repeated the mental mantra. Images of Snape's domineering form and cruel eyes stalked around her head, rolling with the memories of all the disdainful looks he had given her through-out the years.

She sank into a corner and dug her fingernails into her scrunched face. She loathed herself. _Get up. What the fuck are you doing on the floor?_ But she couldn't move. Her muscles were rigid and ached with tension. _I can't, I can't, I can't._ After a sharp intake of breath her emotions ruptured and spilled from her. She wailed and gasped. She didn't care if he heard. She wanted out of this situation, out of her life, right now.

"Miss Feral, open the door"

A forceful knocking accompanied Snape's stern voice. Róisín cowered, expecting him to magically unlock the door. _He is doing me a favour, and THIS is how I repay him, crying like a child on the floor?_ Róisín sobbed louder. The knocking ceased and a few minutes passed where she could only hear her own gasping. Then she heard Professor McGonagall's concerned voice from beyond the door,

"Miss Feral, may I come in? Perhaps I could discuss this…situation with you?" Róisín scrambled to her feet and peaked out of a crack in the door. "Professor Snape has gone to his study to allow us to speak in private," McGonagall explained.

"Em..why…"

"Hearing your distress, he requested that I talk to you."

 _"Oh,"_ Róisín mouthed between sniffles. She tentatively opened the door and looked at the floor in shame.

"I cannot begin to imagine how difficult this is for you, but you must be brave." Róisín gave a slight nod and avoided her professor's gaze. "We'll sit down and tackle your misgivings together." McGonagall threw two marbles in the air with a flick of her wrist. They landed with a thud in front of the fire, having been transfigured mid-flight into two sumptuous armchairs. They settled into the chairs, Róisín curling up and wrapping herself in her arms.

"Despite the obvious, tell me what's wrong," McGonagall began.

"Em…I'm super nervous… and embarrassed."

"That's perfectly understandable."

"I just wish I were different," Róisín said quietly.

"Look at me," McGonagall's voice was soft. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary, it is something to be proud of, sióga can be very powerful when their needs are met."

Róisín cringed, "I wish I didn't have _needs."_

"You cannot change who you are, you can only choose what to do with yourself." Róisín stared into the fire. The happy flames danced around the fireplace, mocking her. "Now…" Professor McGonagall continued, "Are there any _practical_ issues on your mind?" Róisín bit her lip as fresh tears spilled from her eyes,

"I'm scared of him."

McGonagall sighed,

"I know Professor Snape is intimidating, but he is a good man. You must trust him."

The fire crackled loudly in the silence.

"Em… will Professor Snape expect me to... do anything in particular? I mean should I just lie there or…" Róisín trailed off and didn't glance at the professor, as if it were the fire's opinion she was looking for.

"He has no expectations of you, I'm sure he will _lead the way_ so to speak, but I encourage you to talk to him, it will make it easier."

A couple of minutes passed and Róisín gradually stopped sniffling.

"I'll go tell him you've calmed down." McGonagall made to leave and Róisín trembled at the thought of what was to come. "And for Merlin's sake stop shaking like a Norwegian Snrufflepompf, he's only a man and not an inch as cruel as he lets on."

"I wish I had some of that Gryffindor courage," Róisín replied bashfully.

"Ha! Every one of my Gryffindor students would draw a basilisk's gaze if they were in your position."

* * *

Professor McGonagall left Róisín in the bedroom and joined Professor Snape in his study. The potions master was seated at his desk with his fingers pressed heavily against his temples. He was unnaturally still. McGonagall watched something black and feathered swim around a jar of green mucous behind him while she collected her thoughts. This was a delicate situation.

"She is much calmer now." Snape gave an almost imperceptible incline of his head in acknowledgement. "I don't think you can wait another night," McGonagall added. Snape's face shot up,

"Minerva, the child is **terrified** , you couldn't possibly expect me to-"

"-She is not a child, she is eighteen, a young woman, and the sooner you realise that the better."

"This is ludicrous." Each syllable held the weight of Snape's anger. "I will not rape her."

Professor McGonagall flinched at his words but spoke defiantly, "It is **not** rape, Severus, she needs you -"

"- She does not want to _need_ me."

"She is unwell, her magic is wreaking havoc on her." McGonagall's voice held a hint of a plea, "You said you would help her."

"That was before I knew the extent of her despair at the prospect."

"You expected enthusiasm?"

Snape groaned and clenched his fists,

"Leave"

"Will you do it?"

"What choice do I have?" Snape spat at her. McGonagall did not reply. She wanted to reassure him somehow, but did not know how. After a moment she turned and left his quarters.

* * *

The green light from the depths of the Hogwarts Lake filtered through the window and made strange patterns on the wall. Róisín took in her surroundings. There was an imposing four poster bed with slithering snakes carved into the wood work. _Did one of them just move?_ _This is beyond weird. I am in my Professor's bedroom, waiting for him to have sex with me… if he ever comes back. How long have I been sitting here? Has he left his quarters? Am I alone?_ Suddenly, Róisín noticed a dark form reflected in the black marble of the fireplace, hanging behind her in mid-air.

She shot from her chair and spun around. A large pair of bright blue eyes, slanted at an inhuman angle stared at her. Their owner floated in the murky lake an inch from the window pane, the light from the bedroom barely illuminating its form. Róisín eyed the figure as unease crept through her. The creature's webbed fingers clenched and unclenched around a jagged tooth of a large animal.

"Lux sanctus!" The merperson dived to avoid the flash of light shot from behind Róisín, its rapid movement making her jump. Snape strode into the room. He flicked his wand and a black curtain fell into existence with a swoosh to cover the window.

"They cannot reach you in here," he said, his jaw clenched. "They are curious creatures and your presence intrigued her, it is unprecedented for a student to be in my bed chambers… not surprisingly."

Róisín shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The primal flight or flee instinct seized her as Snape stepped towards her. She tried to keep still and looked at one of his coat buttons level with her eyes.

"I'm sorry for hiding sir, it was immature and -"

"Your apologies are not necessary." His words were clipped. Róisín swallowed and looked up at his face, her eyes puffy from crying. She glanced away and blushed as she forced her words out,

"I… em appreciate what you are doing for me."

"I'm sure you do." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

There was silence. Ages came and went, cities grew and crumbled into dust, mountains peaked and were eroded away, stars died and were reborn, and yet still they stood a metre from each other, both frozen, Róisín examining the lint on Snape's cloak under his piercing glare. _Did he expect her to do something?_

Finally, he spoke,

"Miss Feral, it is of utmost importance that you relax, the more anxious you are, the more difficult this will be." He gestured towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable, I will return momentarily." He left through a side door Róisín hadn't noticed.

 _What does he mean, make myself comfortable? Does he want me to undress?_

Róisín was only brave enough to remove her jumper and shoes. The bed was very high and reached almost to her middle. Snape returned as she clambered onto it gracelessly. She sat against the headboard with her feet crossed underneath her. He had taken off his outer robes and wore an untucked button-down shirt.

"I didn't know if you wanted me to take off my clothes or…"

"Miss Feral, I am doing this to help you, what I want is inconsequential."

She breathed faster as he walked towards the bed. Her cheeks burned as she was reminded of the night he had come to her room when she had her period.

"I realise this is difficult for you, and there isn't anything I can do to make it OK, but I'll begin slowly, and we can take it from there." Snape sounded rehearsed. He glanced at her crossed legs. "I would suggest you lie on your front."

Róisín scooted down the bed and lay with her face away from him. She shivered as his fingers gently brushed her tangled hair away from her neck. Her fly-away waves were usually gnarled and clumped at the end the day, and she worried about how they looked now. Her skin prickled as he continued touching her, rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders.

"If I hurt you, you will inform me immediately." His tone was strict and formal, reminding her of his classroom demeanour.

"Yes, sir"

The professor increased the pressure on his hands as he moved them lower, messaging her upper back through her t-shirt.

"If I do something you don't…enjoy, you **will** tell me, understood?"

Róisín nodded her head against the bed covers.

"Miss Feral, please vocalise your answers, this is difficult enough without you acting coy."

"Sorry, sir, I understand."

Snape sighed.

"It is not necessary to address me as sir when you are lying on my bed."

"Ok," Róisín strained to make her voice steady.

"Unless that is what you would prefer." The implication hung in the air. "What I mean is you may speak and act in whatever way makes you comfortable."

"Yes, sir. Em… I mean…" Róisín's voice trailed off. His hands were at her waist now and his long fingers occasionally grasped her sides. She was overly aware of her own breathing.

 _"_ This isn't my classroom Miss Feral, there is no need to stay painfully silent, you may speak even when not spoken to."

"Oh, OK, sorry."

She could feel the muscles in his hands tense as he halted their movement. _He's frustrated because you spent the evening crying on his bathroom floor and now you're on his bed shivering like a grengle caught in the beak of an occamy._ He resumed his motions, his touch gentler than before. His hands were on her lower back, the part that always ached after a long day.

His hands moved lower. His fingers brushed under the bottom of her T-shirt and Róisín went rigid at the skin on skin contact.

"May I?" Snape's voice felt deep and close. Róisín bit her lip and gave a small nod. "Again, I would prefer verbal responses, especially when it concerns your consent."

"Yes," Róisín whispered.

She had expected him to pull her T-shirt up to expose the skin on her back, but it simply disappeared. Róisín flinched.

 _Nonverbal and wandless, well he **is** magically mature, surely wordlessly undressing witches are the least of his abilities. _Her heart contracted tightly. _I wonder what other tricks he has to impress women in bed…although I won't get to experience them, surely he won't bother with me._ Her throat swelled. _I'm just an obligation, a chore._ She gulped and her swallow passed painfully over the lump in her throat. Her lip quivered. _If you cry again it will be beyond mortifying. Pull yourself together._

Snape's hands stopped rubbing and rested on the bare skin of her back,

"Are you afraid?"

 _I'm terrified._ Róisín stayed silent. She did not trust her voice not to break. _The longer you keep quiet the worse it will be, just say something._ She clenched her jaw so tightly she could feel the bones of her teeth compress. _Say that he is the most intimidating man you've ever met, that you've felt nauseous entering his classroom every day for the past six years. Tell him you wanted your first time to be with someone who wanted you, that you want every time to be with someone who wants you. Tell him you feel so painfully inadequate it's as if every fibre in your heart tears with every breath. Tell him you would rather die than be-_

The bed ignited. Róisín heard a hideous screech as the flames leapt and swirled around her.

"Suffocatur!" Snape bellowed. Róisín flew from the bed and landed with a thud on the floor. Snape's incantation sucked the fire together, as if a spherical vacuum had formed that only the flames could fill. The quivering ball of light hovered above the bed, grew smaller and brighter and vanished.

Róisín pulled herself to her feet. The pain was gone.

"Professor, what-"

Snape's wand disappeared up his sleeve as he turned to face her. He looked livid.

"I realise that this is difficult for you," he growled, his voice all the more terrifying for being so deathly quiet, "but you must show restraint, making objects burst into flames does not help your predicament."

"I did this?" Róisín gestured to the smouldering bed sheets and the blackened bed posts.

"You hardly believe _I_ have a vendetta against my own bed."

 _I had imagined so many things that could go wrong tonight. This is worse than any of those things._

She examined the skin on her hands, stomach and arms. It was pink and tender, but unburnt.

"Why am I unharmed?"

Snape flicked his gaze up and down her body. Realizing she was in her bra, she made to cover herself. He flicked his hand and her T-shirt materialized onto her.

"It is near impossible to kill oneself with one's own magic directly," he explained.

"Oh, that makes sense. I'm… em… really, really sorry." Snape made no response.

 _I can only handle a certain amount of awkward silences in one day._

Róisín's words proceeded to stumble out of her, like a drunk falling down a staircase, accelerating as the damage increased,

"These days when I get stressed my magic just goes haywire, and I'm stressed all the time because I have all these… cravings which I can't control, I should have been more careful, I'm so, so sorry, I find it hard enough to be near men at all ever since all this sióg shite began, and you're so intimidating and I feel so bad that you are being forced to have sex with me, you must hate me and think me pathetic, I feel so disgusting, I wish I were anyone else in the world right now, I wish I weren't a weird nympho, it'd be better if I was pretty or something, but being a plain nympho is like, the worst."

Róisín took a deep breath. _Never mind, another awkward silence would have been a lot better._

The expression on Snape's face suggested he was having the most tiring day of his life. He brought his hand up to rub his forehead and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"What would you like… to… drink?" He pronounced each word slowly as if she had difficulty with the English language.

"Oh, em, water?"

"Nothing stronger?"

"Eh… should I drink something stronger?"

Snape raised his eyes to heaven and left the room. He re-entered with what Róisín presumed was a firewhiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Róisín and clicked his fingers. A house elf apparated with a clap.

"Misty, we've had an accident, the bed clothes need to be changed."

The large green eyes of the house elf fluttered to the bed, then to Róisín and back again.

"Of course, Master Snape"

Misty had the burnt bedclothes replaced in an instant and apparated away. The only signs that anything strange had occurred were the charred bedposts and the smoky smell that clung to the air.

Snape grimaced and said,

"That house elf now thinks I'm a pyrophiliac." Róisín looked at him questioningly. "Someone who is aroused by the act of burning things," he added. Róisín let out a tiny snort of amusement and then bit her lip. Snape smirked at her.

 _So he_ can _smile._

Bashful, Róisín averted her gaze.

"Are you still going to … help me?"

"I would like to say we should wait, however, after your little display of pyrotechny, it appears that I do not have a choice, you are no longer safe." Róisín did not know if he meant she was no longer safe from herself, or that she was dangerous to others.

"So you will?"

"Yes"

"Tonight?"

"This morning at this rate," Snape muttered.

"As in now?"

He arched an eyebrow,

"I was not planning on taking you this instant, no." His use of the outdated phrase "to take" made her stomach twist, reminding her of the cultural and social gulf between them. "For this to go smoothly, if that is at all possible given the circumstances, you will need a little more... groundwork." He gestured to McGonagall's armchairs, "Sit."

Róisín sat and sipped at her water. Snape settled into the chair opposite her and lifted his face to the ceiling, his eyes closed as though he were praying for strength. The movement was not Snape-like, it was too… normal, human. Róisín watched him apprehensively. She could not lie and pretend he was handsome; his features were too narrow, his nose too big and hooked, his hair too lank, but he looked somehow… attractive. His sleeves were rolled up over his strong forearms covered in black hair. She knew he was powerful, and intelligent. _He's also short-tempered and cruel, s_ he reminded herself. _Although he hasn't been cruel to me tonight._ Snape took a drink of firewhiskey before setting his dark eyes on her. Róisín blushed.

"I am not being _forced_ to have sex with you, I have been _convinced_ to." His tone implied that no one forced _him_ to do anything. "In truth, I am fortunate to be the one to help you." At Róisín's raised eyebrows he added, "Because it may enhance my ability to do magic, not because I have any desire to bed a student." She lowered her gaze. "I mean no insult to your person Miss Feral, you are... you have no reason to feel inadequate. With regards to the… symptoms you lamented earlier, they will lessen considerably after tonight. Then you should feel comfortable around your male colleagues again."

The blush spread from Róisín's cheeks down her neck.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Please let me know what you think, reading reviews makes my day :D**

 **Note for non-British English speakers:**

 **Irish people sometimes say "shite" instead of "shit".**

 **"To hoover" means to "to vacuum" in British English.**


	15. Snape's Chambers Pt 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading!**

 **Warning, this chapter is explicit.**

 ** _Previously:_**

"I am not being _forced_ to have sex with you, I have been _convinced_ to." His tone implied that no one forced **him** to do anything. "In truth, I am fortunate to be the one to help you." At Róisín's raised eyebrows he added, "Because it may enhance my ability to do magic, not because I have any desire to bed a student." She lowered her gaze. "I mean no insult to your person Miss Feral, you are…. you have no reason to feel inadequate. With regards to the… symptoms you lamented earlier, they will lessen considerably after tonight. Then you should feel comfortable around your male colleagues again."

The blush spread from Róisín's cheeks down her neck.

* * *

Róisín made to place the cool glass of water against her burning cheeks, but instead took a sip, which turned into a gulp. Snape finished his own firewhiskey and banished their glasses. He stood and stepped towards her. Róisín got to her feet and Snape reached to rub the outside of her arms, which hung awkwardly at her sides. She winced at the memory of Eóghan doing the same actions months previously, on a windy autumn quidditch pitch. Snape halted his movement.

"I know you may find it unpleasant, but I can't proceed without touching you."

Róisín shook her head to free herself from the memory.

"Of course, sir."

"If you want me to stop, simply ask; it is not necessary to explode anything." His tone implied that this was not something he should have to explain.

He moved behind her. Her breath hitched as he brushed her hair away from the base of her neck, sending goose bumps down her back.

 _What should I do? Touch him back?_

His hands grasped her waist. They felt large enough to encircle her completely and strong enough to squeeze her life away. He nudged her towards the bed. Before she could hoist herself up, he pivoted her and lifted her onto it. She lay back, her heart dancing to a symphony of fear and excitement, and her head just missed the pillows. Snape grabbed her around her ribs under her breasts, and hoisted her up so that her head rested on them, his forearms flexing with the effort. Róisín saw a black snake flickering on his arm, but when she peered closer it seemed insignificant and she looked away. He climbed onto the bed and watched her face as he ran his hands down her waist, her hips and her thighs. Róisín fixed her gaze on his chest. The butterflies in her stomach were gone, having been eaten by fearsome Namibian pixies that were ravaging her from the inside. Slowly, he moved the palm of his hand onto her jeans covering the mound of her pubis. She jerked slightly as her pelvic muscles fluttered. He rubbed his palm in small circles while applying a gentle pressure.

 _Oh God, if people knew **Snape** was touching me like this. _

"Do you have any preferences?" His deep voice fuelled the pixies which had moved from her stomach to frolic near her groin. He spoke at a normal volume, but it struck her as loud, almost thundering, given that she and Eóghan had only ever whispered in these kinds of situations. _That's because we were worried someone would hear us, or we would get caught. Snape is an adult; he doesn't worry about getting caught._ Róisín had to remind herself that at eighteen, technically she was an adult as well.

"Em… you mean…."

"Is there anything in particular you would like me to do or not to do?"

 _Well, nothing I'm going to say out loud._

"Em… I don't think so."

Snape lifted his palm away from her and arched an eyebrow.

"You are saying there is _nothing_ you would _not_ like me to do?"

Róisín gulped.

"Em… well… I mean..." Her voice trailed away as her skin reddened. "Within reason," she added in a very small voice. Snape exhaled through his nose.

"What position would you prefer?"

"Whatever you would like sir-"

"-Don't," he spat. Róisín looked up sharply at his change in tone. His face, hidden in shadow, seemed too high above her, as if he had grown since climbing on the bed.

"Don't what sir?"

"Make this impossible for me, don't act so submissive and… afraid," he said through his teeth.

"But I _am_ afraid." Róisín voice broke on her words.

"Is there something you are worried I will do, that frightens you, or is it just… my presence in general?" He sounded irritated that his _presence_ was required at all.

Róisín didn't reply.

 _It's **Professor Snape** , you can't just act like he isn't there! _

When Snape spoke again his voice had regained its cool composure,

"From my research, I am confident that for your condition to improve I only have to finish inside you, thereby soothing your entangled magic, any other act should not be necessary."

Róisín nodded in understanding.

"Therefore, in theory I could simply enter you now and it could be over in minutes." He paused. "But I am worried that would cause you a large amount of discomfort, especially given that it's your first time." It was bizarre to hear him _explain_ himself to her. "Also, it would feel as if… I didn't have your consent."

Róisín's chest tightened at the vulnerability hanging on his words. Her breathing grew shallow as she took in his tall, lean body overshadowing hers. His large hands were hovering just above her hips, as if he were afraid their weight would hurt her, or that he might have to catch her if she decided to flee.

"That's why I thought it best if I do this," he put his hand back on her mound and moved it downwards so that it covered her clothed labia. He pressed her lower lips together gently. His hand felt warm. And then it was gone.

"However, if you would prefer that I didn't then I can enter you now and attempt to be both gentle and quick-" His slight frown indicated that achieving both might be difficult. "- or you could make yourself climax and I could do it afterwards."

Róisín's eyes widened. "Sir, are you suggesting that I … _touch myself_ in front of you?"

"Well I could leave the room -"

"- Ok," Róisín blurted before his sarcasm had a chance to register. His presence was overwhelming and she was desperate for him to leave so she could catch her breath. She didn't even have to cum; she just needed a moment to absorb the situation. Then he would be content to have sex with her believing her to be ready and relaxed post-climax, and when it was over she could sprint back to her room in Ravenclaw tower and curl into a tiny ball in her bed.

Suddenly, he had the tip of his wand pressed against her chest. She froze.

" _Pulsatio magna_ ," he said clearly.

The double thump of Róisín's erratic heartbeat echoed through the room. Snape got off the bed.

"Why did-"

"So I know when you've finished." He glanced at a clock on the wall. "I'll be in my study," he muttered before leaving through the passageway they had come from.

Róisín was left alone with the sound of her heart beat thrumming through the room as though she was too near a speaker at a concert. She remembered reading somewhere that the heart beats fast during orgasm. Although she couldn't imagine it beating faster than it already was. _Whether that's true or not he'll realise if I don't..._

She tentatively lowered her hand as if she were shy in front of an audience. _Relax, it's not like he's watching you._ She whipped her head around, checking he had left the room. _Just breathe Róisín!_ She felt exposed on top of the covers so she slipped beneath the thick duvet while undoing the button and zip of her jeans. She started to touch herself. Images from films and books along with her own memories tumbled through her mind, Matt Damon kissing his love interest in the Bourne Identity; a scene from the trashy novel she had hidden under her bed where the protagonist is pinned down by her ardent lover; that time in second year she saw an older male student change out of his quidditch shirt in the common room; Brad Pitt in fight club; a tall, Raven-haired Slytherin leaning over her; an actress wrapping her legs around her lover as he lifted and pushed her against a wall; lying beneath Eóghan on his bed. _No, don't think of Eóghan._

Róisín's jeans were constricting despite being undone and were causing her hand to cramp. She lifted her lower body up and shimmied them past her hips, along with her underwear. The sheets felt smooth and cool against the hot skin of her buttocks. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to refocus.

She thought about various things she had clandestinely "stumbled upon" watching late night television during her muggle summers; a man caressing a woman's curves and licking her nipples; the side view of a man's body undulating on top of a woman, his backside clenching with each thrust.

Her heartrate increased.

She remembered Snape leaning above her moments ago, his large hand touching her. She concentrated on the tightening in her centre and thought about what he was going to do to her...

Then she came, panting hard and shuddering, her heart beating frantically. As it slowed she realised she was covered in perspiration. _Oh god, the sheets under me are probably damp._ As she was about to _accio_ her wand to dry them Snape entered the room. Róisín hastily grabbed her jeans and underwear which had gathered at her ankles beneath the covers and awkwardly pulled them up her legs. She heard her heart rate pick up again as she fumbled with her zip.

Snape watched her as if she were a rare and delicate creature he wanted to capture but didn't know how to without scaring it away.

"Are you ready?"

Róisín nodded. He stepped towards her and her heart pounded louder as if warning him to back off. He paused. Relief and – weirdly – disappointment surged through her as she thought he wouldn't go through with it, but he simply undid the _pulsatio_ spell. Silence. Except for the little pops and snaps from the fire, the soft pat of his bare feet against the stone floor as he stepped towards her, undoing his trousers, the swoosh of the Great Lake from the other side of the glass, or was that the blood rushing through her head? The fall of his trousers onto the floor, the puff and huff of air entering and leaving her nostrils. It was the opposite of silence.

Cool air wafted in with Snape as he lifted the duvet and climbed on top of her, the bed sagging where he placed his knees on either side of her legs. She kept her gaze away as he pushed his boxers past his hips and she blushed at the immodest, muggle sound of her zip being undone by his hand. His thumbs brushed her skin as he placed them under the top rim of her jeans. His dark eyes met hers as he pushed her jeans past her hips and she lifted her lower body to accommodate him. Then he did the same with her underwear. She shivered. He gently pushed her thighs open and moved between them, lowering himself so that he was hovering on top of her with his elbows on either side of her head. His penis pressed against her thigh, warm and hard. Because of their considerable height difference the collar of his shirt was aligned with her eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. A drip of sweat ran down his neck.

He leaned back onto his knees and raised his hands to the buttons of his shirt.

"Do you mind?"

 _Is he asking my permission to take off his own shirt?_

"Oh, no, of course not."

His shirt disappeared and Róisín saw his pale, toned torso before he leaned on top of her again. He smelt like male body wash with a trace of sweat.

He reached down and used his hand to guide himself to her opening. She could feel him there. So close and warm. He looked down at her shivering beneath him.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm fine."

"It should not be painful, if it is I will stop and we can try again." He cleared his throat. "It's a myth that the hymen needs to be "broken", it may tear a little the first time, but sometimes it doesn't hurt at all."

He was close enough that she could taste his breath; it was minty as if he had just brushed his teeth.

"OK," Róisín whispered.

He began to push inside her slowly. Although she was wet from having orgasmed, it still felt painful, as though his penis were sharp. She grabbed the sheets with her fists and tried to hide her discomfort. The sensation was new to her. Whenever she wanted to get off by herself she touched her clitoris. She had never put her fingers inside herself, she didn't even use tampons.

"Are you OK?" Snape asked, his mouth tensed. Róisín realised her face was scrunched with pain. She attempted to school her features and met his gaze.

"Em…yea..yes." Her voice was strained. "Is em, is it…?" Snape looked at her quizzically. She felt flushed like a ripe tomato. She needed the pain to stop.

"S-sorry I mean, never mind."

His forehead creased in concern as he leaned backwards so he could look down at her.

"Are you in pain?"

Róisín ignored his question. It felt like his penis was burning her.

"Will it get worse?" she blurted out.

"Róisín, I'm barely inside you," Snape said incredulously. Her given name sounded weird on his lips.

 _Oh Merlin, I **cannot** do this. _

He pulled out of her and she winced at the feeling. "Have you ever been penetrated at all?"

Her eyes prickled. "Em… I tried using a tampon once but it was too painful."

Snape exhaled loudly.

"Excellent," he bit out. "In that case, we'll have to start with something more basic."

Róisín, mortified, reflexively went to cover her face with her hands, but caught herself and put her hair behind her ears. Snape gently rubbed her clitoris before circling a finger around her opening and pressing in a little. Róisín's eyes widened as he lifted the finger to his mouth, placed his lips over it, and brought it back down to her. He stilled when he noticed her reaction. The movement had been natural to him, like a reflex. _Did he just **taste** me?_

"It'll be easier if my finger is wet," he explained. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Róisín lowered her gaze.

Snape slowly pushed his finger inside her. It stung a little but considerably less than his penis had. She could feel his gaze studying her intently, and she felt entirely exposed, as if he were reading her secrets aloud from her diary.

"Look at me."

The order made Róisín clench around his finger. In the dim light his iris and pupil moulded into one black circle.

"I need you to relax your muscles." He crafted each syllable carefully, as if she might find his meaning conceptually difficult.

"They are relaxed."

"I can feel that they aren't." Snape curled his finger to emphasis his point.

"Oh, em… I don't think I know how."

He didn't respond and Róisín couldn't read his expression. Then he said quietly, "Take deep breaths and clear your mind."

Róisín closed her eyes and started breathing heavily. She didn't know how to clear her mind, so she tried not to focus on what was happening and instead thought about her transfiguration essay due next week. Eventually her body relaxed and she barely felt his finger inside her.

"Good"

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. He curled his finger against the front wall of her vagina and began stroking slowly. The movement elicited a sweet ache inside her, but as she started to tense at the new sensation the lingering discomfort grew into pain again.

"Relax"

Róisín closed her eyes. Snape started moving his finger faster in a "come hither" movement. The stinging pain became overwhelmed by a sweet throbbing. Her mouth opened and her eyes squeezed shut. When his finger began to move faster she flung her hand between them and grabbed his wrist. Instantly, Snape ceased his movement but kept his finger deep inside her. Róisín thought she saw a dark shadow on his forearm but instantly forgot it. She released his wrist.

"Is it still painful?" His voice was husky.

"A little," she whispered.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Róisín gave a tiny nod. She winced at the unpleasant feeling of his finger leaving her.

"If you want me to stop in future it would be preferable for you to voice that desire rather than attempting to physically restrain me." Róisín winced again at his serious tone. "I don't want to misinterpret your actions."

 _Was that a threat?_ Her eyes opened and flickered back and forth between each of his.

"Why did you stop me?" he asked.

 _Typical Snape, interrogating his student even in the throes of passion,_ Róisín thought, however her insides warmed at the concern in his question.

"I just felt emm… like I was losing control."

"So, you want to be in control."

"Em…" The one thing Róisín knew was that she did not want to take the initiative. "That's not what I meant sir. I would much prefer you in control… I mean…"

Snape leaned back onto his knees and rolled his shoulders. The heat rose in Róisín's cheeks as she noticed the sharply defined "V" of his Apollo's belt. The heat flared when she realised he probably thought she was appraising a lower part of his anatomy. She caught a glimpse of his penis and redirected her eyes to study the canopy. He was still erect. She had no frame of reference for his size, he seemed large and intimidating to her but in that moment any penis would.

"Why did you feel you were losing control?" he pressed.

"Em…"

"If you ask me to stop I will," he said as though it were a threat. Her insides warmed further.

"I… you were making me feel very… and I was…" Róisín spoke in a tiny voice. "…I couldn't control my reaction…"

Snape snorted. "Miss Feral, I may be able to get us through tonight without causing you significant pain, I will **not** be able to prevent you from feeling anything at all."

Róisín rubbed her hand across her face.

"Of course, sir, I'm being stupid."

Snape sighed. "If you wish to feel detached from the situation, close your eyes, think about things that make you feel calm, and relax,

"I'll try to get it over with as quickly as possible," he added in a mutter.

He aligned himself with her opening and pushed in slowly. She closed her eyes. He kept still inside her. A few seconds passed.

"Róisín, relax." His stern tone did nothing to help her. She opened her eyes to look at him. His were closed in a pained expression.

"Em… sir?"

"Yes"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Of course there is, everything about this is wrong." He sounded breathless. "The immediate problem, however, is that you are nervous, and tensed..." He looked away from her.

"Am I _hurting_ you sir?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not, I just - you should not be in pain."

Róisín cringed. _I am hopeless at everything. I can't even have sex. Even though apparently its what I need to stay sane._

"I'm sorry sir. I really am. I can't "relax" any more, so just go ahead." Snape shifted his weight and raised his eyebrows at her. Róisín swallowed. "I just want this over so I can go back to my dormitory."

A flicker of frustration passed over his features.

"As you wish."

He began thrusting into her. Róisín's knuckles went white as she grabbed the sheets at her sides. It felt too intense, like staring at the sun. She clamped her mouth shut to prevent any whimpers escaping and focused on the strange contrast between the erotic feeling winding inside her, the sharp pain in her vagina and the delicate tickle of a tear on her cheek.

Snape lifted himself so that his weight was on his palms without interrupting his rhythm. Róisín looked down and saw he was holding back; only thrusting into her a few centimetres.

She felt the tear drip from her chin and land with a cold touch onto her collar bone.

Snape started breathing in short, sharp breaths as his pace increased. Róisín knew that he was trying to be gentle with her, but it still felt brutal and raw. She concentrated on the sight of his abdomen muscles rhythmically contracting and relaxing in time with his thrusts and ignored the sob welling in her throat.

She jerked in surprise as he dropped down onto his elbows and started thrusting quicker than before, in bursts of movement. He was heavy. His body felt unbearably warm and the friction of his stomach against the fabric of her t-shirt chafed her skin. She was trapped. Her breathing became frantic. His right hand reached down and grasped her left buttocks, changing the angle of penetration. She squirmed but he didn't seem to notice. He groaned as he gave a few final, deeper thrusts. Róisín felt him cum inside her. Then he stilled.

 _That's it. It's done._

He abruptly climbed off her. Róisín felt cold now that his warmth was gone. She heard him buckling his belt as she curled into a foetal position facing away from him, staring at the wall.

"I will get you some pain relief potion," he said.

She heard him leave and return moments later. He walked to where she was facing and held out two vials.

"This is the pain reliever and this is a contraceptive, drink both."

She sat up, feeling as though her limbs had grown heavier. She hastily pulled the duvet up to her middle when she noticed that her bottom half was still exposed. She took both vials and drank them, grimacing at the bitter taste.

Snape stared at her like she was a problem he had no desire to deal with. Róisín fixed her gaze at his shirtless chest, feeling too embarrassed and too impertinent to look him in the eye. Pale, raised scars criss-crossed his torso. How had she missed them before?

"I will leave you to dress," he muttered and strode into the passage that led to his study.

Róisín pulled on her underwear and jeans. She felt numb.

She hesitated at the door that led to the cupboard in his office, but decided it would be silly to knock when entering from his bed chambers, so she stepped inside.

Snape, now clothed, was sitting at his desk reading scrolls. He looked up as she entered but didn't acknowledge her.

 _Is he going to let me leave without saying anything? Am_ I _going to leave without saying anything?_

He sighed deeply and looked back down at his papers.

"Get some rest Miss Feral," he said dismissively.

"Yes, sir, em… thank you for…"

He raised his eyes to hers, as if daring her to say it.

"Em… good night, professor."

She left, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

"Miss Feral"

Róisín had just closed Snape's office door when she heard him call after her. She considered fleeing and pretending she hadn't heard, but instead she steeled herself and reopened it.

"Have you finished your essay on the inter-species polyjuice variation?" His voice was gruff.

Róisín had completely forgotten about that essay. It was due tomorrow.

"Y-yes." She immediately averted her gaze. _Why am I such a **terrible** liar. _

"Finish it this weekend. I expect it on my desk Monday."

"Thank you, sir."

As Róisín hurried through the castle back to Ravenclaw tower, a thought unsettled her like the remnants of something too sickly-sweet in her stomach:

 _Snape never grants extensions._ _He must really pity me._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 ** _I'm sorry to those who are disappointed that their first time wasn't steamier, I'm trying to aim for realism, and most people's first sexual experiences don't go smoothly, especially in a situation as awkward as Snape and Róisín's._**

 ** _Let me know what you think if you have the time :)_**


	16. Hungry Baumidgers

Róisín's head was heavy. It rolled forward on her shoulders, like a baby's with no support, as she shuffled down the staircase into the Ravenclaw common room. She squinted as she stepped into the white light blasting through the windows.

"Mornin' Róisín!" an unmistakable Scottish voice called out. Róisín flinched. She took a jerky step backwards, tempted to run back up the stairs to her dormitory.

"Anna told me ye had detention last night, so Ah" – hiccup – "waited up with the lads but ye never came" – hiccup – "back." Eóghan got up from his favourite armchair, the one you sunk into like a sponge cake, and put down the book he was reading, "On the Origin of Fantastic Beasts". It was one of Róisín's favourites.

Her chest ached. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes to delay looking at him.

"Em… yeah Madam Pince kept me for _ages_ , I was so tired I could barely solve the riddle, almost ended up sleepin' in the stairwell," she responded, still furiously rubbing her eyes, "like who cares what bloody year it is on Jupiter?"

"Careful Rósh, yer inner Gryffindor's showin'," Eóghan teased. "Pince must've kept ye crazy late though" – hiccup – "cus Ah stayed up with Angus and Richard past midnight."

"Did Richard's da sneak you guys bubble brandy again?" Róisín asked with faux disapproval.

"How d'ye" – hiccup – "know?" Eóghan answered with a smile.

"Just a guess."

Eóghan hadn't shaved that morning. His dark stubble looked like it'd feel rough against her skin.

"What are ye doin' up? You don't have class this morning," Róisín asked.

"Er, I thought I'd catch you on the way to breakfast."

"Oh" Róisín felt her heart lurch and deflate like a popped balloon. It was clear Eóghan knew she'd been avoiding him. "I have em… S-Snape this morning so I better get going, but we can get breakfast together if you want? Maybe food will cure those brandy hiccups."

* * *

Eóghan buried his plate with rashers, sausages and black pudding while Róisín's Weetabix floated sadly in her bowl of milk. It tasted like cardboard. She politely nodded along as Eóghan talked about Ravenclaw's upcoming quidditch match against Slytherin, but her eyes had wandered to Snape's empty seat.

"Róisín, is everything ok? You've been kind of distant recently," Eóghan remarked.

Róisín swallowed a lump of milky wheat.

"Yeah, em, I supposed I've just been stressed with study an'… stuff." She was suddenly fascinated with the contents of her bowl. Her milk rippled as a tear hit its surface.

Eóghan's warm hand covered hers and she looked up.

"Ah don't mean to pressure ye or anythin'," he said. "Is it something I did?"

"No, of course not," Róisín assured him. Then she remembered and blurted out, "I've been cursed."

Eóghan's eyes widened. Róisín preceded to tell him about the book "Poison of Desire", the one Dumbledore had instructed her to pretend she had encountered on her internship, and asked Eóghan to tell no one else about it.

"That's why we can't… well, _fool around,_ anymore… until I'm cured, which could take ages, so you should maybe forget about us for a while," Róisín finished in a rush. Her milk rippled again and she pushed her bowl away, suddenly angry at Dumbledore and his stupid lie.

"Hey, look at me," Eóghan said gently, "it'll be ok, we can still hang out as friends, that other stuff isn't… everything, not to me."

Her nose was running. She needed to sniffle, but then she'd be crying, right there, in the Great Hall at breakfast. Her lips wobbled.

"C'mon." Eóghan stood and led her from the hall, abandoning their half-eaten breakfasts.

Black robes swished into view and Róisín tore her eyes from her feet. Snape had swept into the Great Hall just as they were leaving.

"Mornin' sir"

Their professor stilled at Eóghan's greeting, and his gaze landed on their joined hands before looking directly at Róisín's red-rimmed eyes.

Then he was walking towards the staff table and Eóghan was dragging her away. Her upper body began to shake with her sobbing.

"Róisín, you're going to be ok!" Eóghan asserted when they reached a deserted corridor. "If the curse were serious you'd be sent to St. Mungo's." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Remember Angus got that nasty curse before the final match last year? Remember, one of those Slytherin gobshites cursed his beater's bat?! Ah thought he was a goner, the way he was smashin' everythin' in reach, but a week or so later Pomfrey had him sorted oot! If only we could've proved it was that wanker Flint." Róisín continued to sob in his arms. She didn't want to look at him, ashamed he believed she was upset simply because they couldn't hook up anymore.

"Are ye sure there's nothing else goin' on?"

Róisín searched her brain for an excuse.

"Em… my grandad's not"- sniff- "well." It wasn't an outright lie, he'd had a cold recently, which was not insignificant when you were ninety-two years of age.

"Crivvens! Ah am so sorry, will he make it?"

"Em, I-I think so." Róisín pushed away from Eóghan gently. "I'm sorry but I should head down to potions, I don't" – sniff – "wanna be late."

* * *

"Hey, Róisín, how are you?"

Ida plonked herself beside Róisín at their potions desk with uncharacteristic lethargy. Róisín attempted a bright smile.

"Not bad, what's up?"

"Some prankster let a baumidger into Greenhouse Seven yesterday," Ida sighed. "I spent ages helping Professor Sprout sort it out and now I'm exhausted."

"Were the plants damaged?"

"Well, it dug up all the beds and pots, and it even ate the loquitiflos flower heads, which is sad cus I liked the sound of them jabbering away."

"That's weird, we studied baumidgers last year and they don't eat plant leaves, they eat mostly insects," Róisín commented.

"Well _this_ baumidger loved them, it even ate some of Anna's and my African spider ivy. Maybe it has an evil plan to brew some veritaserum and discover the secrets of its baumidger clan, where the crunchiest bowtruckles party or something. Anyway, in the end we had to ask Hagrid to bring Fang to sniff out the stupid badger, because we couldn't find it anywhere."

"Did it colour-shift to hide?"

"Yeah it did, and apparently they're impervious to summoning charms, did you know that?"

"Of course I did, and you would've too if you'd chosen Magical Creatures," Róisín teased. "Have you ever seen one during mating season? The males are stunning, with their stripes of black and gold. Some say they inspired Helga - "

Róisín stopped talking as the rest of the class hushed. Snape had entered the room.

* * *

Snape asked his usual obnoxiously specific questions as he lectured the class, but he ignored Róisín, much to her relief. He then went around the lab evaluating each student's matured invisibility potion. By the time he came to Róisín's the class had ended and the other students had left.

Róisín shifted in her seat at his approach, and her privates, still tender from last night, twinged. She continued to take notes as he examined her potion, even though her handwriting had become too shaky to be legible.

"An E"

Her pen slipped.

"Pardon, sir?"

She had expected to receive a "Poor" grade or worse for yesterday's slopping brewing.

"You blanched the anguisette thrice instead of four times as instructed, but otherwise this is a potent brew."

"Oh, thank you, sir."

He stood across the bench from her, his features shifting due to the glimmering potion reflected onto his face.

"Do you have class now?" he asked.

"Em… no I don't, sir."

"There's something I need to discuss with you."

Róisín's blood stilled.

"There's no need to be alarmed, I'm not going to chastise you," Snape muttered as though the words tasted bad. "Pack your belongings and follow me to my office."

Róisín kept a pace behind Snape as they walked to his office, their shadows compressing and stretching as they came closer to and passed each flickering lantern. Once there, Snape sat and gestured for Róisín to do the same.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Em…" Róisín blinked and saw last night projected onto her eyelids, with Snape's bare torso moving mechanically above her.

Words had not been invented for how she felt.

"I don't… what do you mean sir?"

"Is your magic stable now?"

 _Oh, of course, that was the whole purpose of it._

"I-I don't know sir, I haven't tested it yet."

"You haven't done _any_ magic at all?"

"Well, I wasn't in the habit of it, sir, because of the difficulties I've been having."

"Try it now."

Róisín turned to the unlit logs in the fire place, balled her hand into a fist, and flung it open.

The logs burst into flames.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Where's your wand?"

Róisín automatically tapped her chest in response to Snape's question, making sure her wand was in her breast pocket. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, you meant for me to use it, of course, sorry sir," Róisín said as she took out her wand.

"It's important that you use your wand as often as a normal witch would."

 _Normal._ The word stung.

"Yes, of course sir."

"There was no doubt as to your raw power before my _intervention_ last night, as your friend Miss Bathworth could attest-" Róisín looked down at her lap.

 _God he's such a cunt._

"- it's your magical finesse I'm concerned with," Snape finished. He conjured a tiny needle and thread and levitated them in front of Róisín. "Thread it."

Róisín muttered " _Augamentimini"_ to dampen the tip of the thread and make it pointed, then she carefully guided it through the eye of the needle with her magic. Satisfied, she looked at Snape.

He looked broader with his arms crossed at his chest.

"Your wand?" he asked pointedly.

"Fuck," Róisín cursed under her breath, and picked up her wand lying idle on her lap, "Sorry sir, I'll make sure to use it in future."

"See that you do."

Róisín twiddled her neglected wand.

"Am I dismissed?"

Snape gave an incline of his head and Róisín got up from her chair. A spark of pain shot from between her legs at the sudden movement. She grimaced.

"Miss Feral"

Róisín turned back to Snape. He looked bloodless like chalk.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you still in pain?"

"Em… no, not really."

Snape held her gaze. Róisín was as desperate to break from it as a diver for air.

"If you do not wish to be captured by the Dark Lord I advise you take the time to learn how to lie," he said smoothly, although his jaw was tense with anger. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

"I… I didn't think it was your concern."

"You didn't think it was my …concern," Snape repeated slowly, as he stood from his chair. "Your discomfort is the result of _my_ actions."

"But it's _my_ fault, it's because of what _I_ am." He must have transfigured her into a kettle, her words were so high and thin.

"Miss Feral, would I be speaking to you now if you were not _"my concern"_? The headmaster has placed you in my charge, if someone finds out what you are because you never use a wand, gawk at the boys around you, and limp with the pain between your legs that falls on _me_."

"I don't understand sir," Róisín gushed, "loads of girl's eye boys up, some witches are adept at wandless magic and even if someone with exceptional intuition somehow inferred from a micro-expression of mine that I lost my virginity last night, there'd be no reason to think I'd lost it with _you,_ or that I'm a sióg!" she finished in a single breath.

Snape leaned onto the desk towards Róisín, looming above her.

"There are things you don't understand," he said through his teeth. "I'm trying to help you-"

"-No, you're trying to look good in front of your boss," Róisín spat.

It was as though the office were half submerged in water but Róisín refused to rub her eyes. Snape did not reply.

A vial holding what looked like liquid sunshine floated out of a cupboard like a large firefly into his open palm.

"Drink _a sip_ of this," he commanded.

Róisín, still huffing through her nose after her tirade, did not move.

"I'm growing tired or your insolence, Miss Feral." His eyes were in shadow but his voice held the weight of his warning.

Well _she_ was tired of being intimidated by the authority figures in this magical world she had been thrust into at twelve, fed-up of the old-school British etiquette, the "yes, sir's" and "no, sir's", which left a disgusting taste of sycophancy in her mouth.

"What is it?" she asked.

" _Mielespoir_ , it will relieve your pain," he said as though she didn't deserve it.

Róisín took the vial and began to drink. It tasted like heaven, the creamiest chocolate, laughter, fresh strawberries, flying on a broomstick, music…

It was gone.

Snape had snapped the vial from her grip and stoppered it. Róisín felt light and calm, the ache between her legs forgotten.

"It's addictive," Snape said. "Thankfully, this batch isn't particularly strong." He looked at her as though the potion had been her idea and he didn't approve.

* * *

After Snape dismissed her, Róisín retreated to her dormitory for the rest of her free period. As the potion wore off she lay on her bed trying to process what had happened.

She had spoken back to Snape. But he hadn't lashed out in response. It was beyond weird.

She had hoped that after his "intervention" she would no longer feel emotionally overwhelmed, but she supposed there was no cure for teenage hormones. Every time she had to discuss her predicament while Snape was present she ended up in tears, and every time he had given her a potion. Did he think he could solve her problems by drugging her?

But she was wrong, he hadn't given her a potion every time she was upset. He hadn't given her anything before taking her virginity last night, not a calming potion, nor a numbing one, nor the fascinating " _meilespoir_ ". He'd offered her a drink, but she suspected that was because he had wanted one himself.

Why didn't he give her anything? He clearly wasn't against drugging her.

Maybe he thought a potion would've interfered with whatever happened between them that had given her back control of her magic.

Róisín sat up abruptly.

" _Ego levi_ ," she whispered. The pressure on her behind decreased until she was no longer sitting on her bed but hovering a few inches above it.

"Yes!" she exclaimed and punched the air. "It's back."

Elated, Róisín jumped to her feet and cast a tidying spell, _denestify_ , and squealed with delight as she watched her dirty clothes and school supplies whirl around the room and find their place. There was a soft clunk as the spell placed her wand onto her bedside table.

Róisín looked at it guiltily. In her excitement she had forgotten to use it, which was strange because she would normally need it for a spell as complex as _denestify;_ domestic charms had never come naturally to her.

She sat at her desk, where her family's letters were now stacked neatly. With another pang of guilt, she realised she hadn't written to them in weeks. She picked up her quill.

Half an hour later there were only seven words on the parchment: "Hey, how are you guys? I'm good…" and a few splotches of tears. Trying to think of anything real to say which didn't involve the fact that she was a sióg was like trying to get blood from a ghost. And now she was crying for the _third_ time today.

Her stomach grumbled and, after checking that her eyes weren't puffy, she headed down to the Great Hall for lunch.


	17. The Dubois Transform

The Great Hall was swarming with students coming and going like bees from a beehive.

"What are you two pure-bloods conspiring about now?" Róisín asked playfully as she took a seat opposite Anna and Richard, the friend of Eóghan whose father had sent the brandy.

"Just the declining standards of house elves as we head towards the twenty-first century," Richard quipped.

"Ha! Have you seen the state of Anna's room back home? She doesn't have house elves."

"Yeah, my stupid hippie mother freed ours, I grew up toiling over the stove," Anna moaned.

Róisín snorted with laughter and Anna joined her. They both knew Anna hadn't touched a pot in her life. Anna smothered her snickers and struck back,

"Laugh all you want, but I think you _Oirsh_ ," she said in a thick Dublin accent, "are infiltrating this fine British establishment from the bottom up."

"What are ye on about?" Róisín asked.

"Well, all there is on offer today is Guinness beef stew and Irish salmon, explain that!"

"And _Eton_ mess for dessert?" Róisín retorted, making Anna's faux serious expression ripple into laughter again.

The familiar banter made Róisín feel like she was slipping back into her old self. When Richard left, she apologised to Anna.

"I was super rude to you the night before last, I dunno _what_ came over me and I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, Róisín," Anna said, "I'm just confused, is something going on? You've been acting… down recently."

"No, it's just, study and stuff, and hormones, I dunno." Róisín shook her head. "I'll be fine…. I'm excited about this party you're planning," she added with forced enthusiasm.

"That _we're_ planning," Anna corrected.

They began organising the party on the way to transfiguration. They decided on Saturday, in the common room, at eleven when the younger students have gone to bed or retreated from their hostile glares. For food they would cajole the kitchen elves into donating dancing gingerbread men and flying fairy cakes. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so they could sneak in some butterbeer. For music they compromised between playing hits from the muggle world and Anna's favourite "Magikpop" wizarding bands.

* * *

"The Theory of Flourishing Knowledge," McGonagall began when the students had settled, "was first proposed by Armando Dippet and later built upon by…?"

"Professor Dumbledore," a Hufflepuff answered.

"Correct. Now, who can explain it?"

Ida spoke up,

"The theory posits that the exact details of an intricate object are not required in order to transfigure the object, just enough information is needed to seed one's magic with its form; wherein it will be completed by the cosmos' collective."

"Excellent, Miss Evrard, ten points to Ravenclaw," McGonagall replied. "Although complete knowledge of the object is unnecessary, the more you know, the better your initial knowledge will "flourish"."

They were each given a blank notebook to transfigure. Róisín squeezed her eyes shut, said the incantation, and opened them to discover a hardback in its place, with "The Chronicles of Narnia" written across the front. The book was overflowing with moving illustrations; Aslan strode across one page, his magnificent mane soft beneath her fingers; on another a faun trotted through forests buried in snow. It only had a few words scattered here and there however, most of which were nonsensical.

Beside her, Anna snorted as she flipped through her own handiwork; a dog-eared paperback featuring a witch in the arms of a handsome vampire on the front. She passed it to Róisín and pointed out a line:

"Stephanie is blond. Everyone wants to be her. She is a bitch." And another on the next page: "There is sexual tension between Elsa and Roberto."

"Well I remembered the gist of it," Anna said.

"I didn't know you had such refined taste in literature," Róisín teased.

"Shut up, you're just jealous your preteen years weren't filled with such steamy material."

McGonagall gave Ida ten points for her recreation of "Transfiguration Perfection" and appraised with pinched lips Anna's simplified version of "Blood that Binds". She gave Róisín a warm "well done" before she even looked at her book, and when she saw the hundreds of illustrations she awarded her another ten points.

"Ravenclaw for the cup," Angus, the Ravenclaw beater, cheered in a little whisper and patted Róisín on the back.

* * *

"Today we will focus on Lambert's theorem of pattern generation," Professor Vector said, breaking through Róisín's mental replay of her disastrous meeting with Snape earlier that day.

"Professor," Kiserian, the Slytherin girl from Róisín's potion class, asked, "what about the Dubois transform we were working on last Tuesday?"

"Yes, well it turns out the student body is too small for that transform, so you can use the example of the German village in the text as a reference," Vector said to the blackboard as she wrote out Lambert's theorem.

"But that example only has eight hundred people and there are a thousand students at Hogwarts."

Vector turned around,

"Since the students of Hogwarts are teenagers, they're still developing, and not appropriate for the transform, my apologies," she said sharply and turned back to the board.

Kiserian gave the girl sitting beside her a look as if to say, "What's her problem?" but didn't reply.

Róisín's chest tightened. She had forgotten about the anomaly in the calculations on Tuesday and the look Vector had thrown her way. Róisín still didn't buy that Vector had made a mistake in applying the transform to the student body. Vector didn't make mistakes.

After class ended, Róisín debated whether to ask McGonagall about it as she descended the steep stairs of the north-east tower.

 _Or maybe Snape would know more, seeing as he's apparently the expert on sióga._

"Hey, Feral"

Róisín looked up, surprised to see that Zoltan Kun had fallen into step beside her.

"Hello, Zoltan"

"So, you're playing tomorrow then?"

"Pardon?"

"The quidditch match"

Róisín looked at Kun in confusion.

"No, I'm not on the team."

"Thought you might be filling in for Griffiths."

Róisín snorted.

"Do I look like a beater to you?"

Kun languidly looked her body up and down, before meeting her eyes.

"No, I suppose you don't."

Róisín blushed and looked away. His eyes were striking like a cat's. They reached the bottom of the staircase and Róisín began to walk in the direction of Ravenclaw tower. To her surprise, Kun continued to walk with her.

"So, why'd ye think I'd be playing tomorrow?" Róisín asked to break the silence.

"Well since Griffiths broke his leg last match, rumours were you might fill in for him, seeing as you've been flying with McCormack so often."

"Oh, Angus is fine, Pomfrey fixed his leg and Eóghan's just teaching me as a favour. I'm terrible, definitely not good enough for the team."

"I doubt you're that bad."

"No really, I am."

They turned a corner. The inhabitants of the paintings they passed leaned forward to snoop at the Slytherin so far from the dungeons. Even a raven with a letter in its beak alighted on a windowsill to watch the pair.

"Do you play quidditch?" Róisín asked.

"A little, but I prefer zhouzhan, do you know it?"

"Isn't it a wizarding martial art?"

"Correct. In zhouzhan, you can only use yidong magic and win by forcing your opponent to tap out."

"Yidong magic?"

"A type of wandless, nonverbal magic that physically pushes or pulls your opponent."

"Sounds like a cool sport."

"I could show you a few moves sometime," Kun suggested.

"I'd be awful, I'd tap out before we began."

"Don't worry, I'd go easy on you." Róisín imagined Kun's lean body wrestling with her. She gulped. "Anyway, I thought you were decent wandless," Koen added.

"Em, no… not particularly."

"That's not what I heard, Roman Jacquet said you've done some ridiculous wandless magic in transfig."

The blood pumped in Róisín's brain like a siren. What was Kun doing talking to Jacquet? They weren't even in the same house.

"I didn't mark you as a Slytherin who befriends Hufflepuffs," Róisín teased, desperate to change the subject.

"I associate with a select few," Kun said teasingly.

They had reached the bottom of the staircase leading to Ravenclaw tower. Róisín paused, not knowing what to say. Kun stood a breath closer than normal to her, his tall stance folded with relaxed confidence.

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade next weekend together?" he asked.

"Oh," Róisín exclaimed, taken aback, "Em… I promised my friend I'd do some shopping with her, but maybe next time."

"Ok, I'll remind you," Kun replied and grinned at her before walking back the way they had come.

Róisín rushed up the stairs, her face glowing.

Why did she say maybe next time? There could be no next time. If she could, she'd go out with Eóghan, not Kun. Why was he interested anyway? The popular Slytherin was swarmed with girls, girls of good, pureblood stock.

She was smiling though, that type of big, boisterous smile that had a life of its own. She bit the inside of her cheek to dampen it.

Ok, so a tiny part of her was pleased that Kun had noticed her.

* * *

Outside a paned glass window, the raven with the letter watched Róisín climb Ravenclaw tower before flying away.

* * *

Róisín spent the evening practicing transfiguration with Anna in the common room. She attempted to recreate books from her school days in Dublin which Anna insisted on reading aloud from, butchering the Irish language in the process. For her part, Anna transfigured novellas with raunchy passages that caused Róisín to cry with laughter. The dirty looks sent by their more studious peers for disturbing the peace just caused them to dissolve into more giggles.

* * *

The next day, against a white, frosted sky, Ravenclaw played Slytherin in the bloodiest quidditch match in Hogwarts' recent history. For over three hours, the players dodged, twisted and smacked into each other in a dizzying blur. At one point, a bludger missed its target and rocketed towards the stands. Just as Róisín and Anna ducked in fear, Eóghan appeared out of nowhere and sent the bludger hurtling towards the Slytherin keeper, hitting him in the gut and propelling him through the hoop, quaffle in hand, scoring a rare own-goal for Ravenclaw. In the end, with only five of fourteen players left on the pitch, Slytherin defeated Ravenclaw 320 points to 300. The atmosphere was grim that evening as the Ravenclaws gathered around their wounded team in the hospital wing, however a disloyal part of Róisín was relieved she wouldn't have to deal with a particularly bad-humoured potions professor.

* * *

Late on Sunday morning, Róisín, ravenous and worried about missing breakfast, found a gaggle of students around the doors to the Great Hall. She pushed through them but stalled when she overheard some of the chatter,

"Snape _himself_ took fifty points-"

"- I heard it was a _hundred!"_

She craned her head upwards. The Slytherin hourglass, filled yesterday with emerald gems glistening a foot above the other houses was now almost empty. The ruby gems stood the tallest, followed by the sapphire and the amber.

Anna, Eóghan and Angus discussed with Róisín what they had heard over breakfast. Apparently, there had been a scuffle last night in the Slytherin dormitory during their match celebrations. They didn't know who fought or if anyone was injured. The rumours ranged from dark curses to people being transfigured into mice, and each time they circled the Great Hall the rumours grew more horrid; dark curses turned to unforgivables and mice turned to lice. Only a handful of Slytherins were at breakfast, offering a curt "bugger off" to the delegates sent from the other tables to investigate.

After breakfast, Róisín and Eóghan set off to check on the thestral foal, "Bumbly", that they were monitoring for their assignment. They found the herd in a clearing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. At first the glade looked empty to Róisín, but then she saw little puffs of steam coming out of mid-air, as if tiny pixies were gathered around smoking pipes. When she got closer she could smell and hear them, huffing and neighing like horses.

Róisín sat on the fat root of an oak tree and took notes as Eóghan examined Bumbly. Although the scratch on Bumbly's leg from before had healed, he now had another deep scrape on his back.

"Maybe he got it chasin' squirrels through the undergrowth, there are mad sharp stabbing thorns on those bristlebacks by Ogg's creek," Eóghan mused. He squatted down to look at the foal's teeth and promptly fell backwards laughing, "He licked mah face!".

"Good boy," Róisín said as she reached out to pet the thestral and missed, causing Eóghan to guffaw again. His booming laughter must've startled the foal, as he quieted abruptly and caressed what Róisín assumed was its mane.

She watched the ridges of veins in Eóghan's arms as he cooed over the invisible Bumbly, remembering his prowess in the match yesterday, how his biceps had flexed inches from her when he walloped the bludger. She realised he was in only a t-shirt, while she was wrapped up like a cocoon.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"No, Ah don't really feel cold, Ah feel hot sometimes, but nae often cold."

* * *

That night Róisín stayed up perfecting her polyjuice essay until grey clouds mushroomed out of a black sky. After closing her eyes for what felt like a second, she was woken by the morning sunlight stumbling through her window like an obnoxious roommate after a drunken night out. She skipped breakfast to proof-read her essay for the fifth time, then threw herself towards the dungeons to deliver it to Snape.

Panting, she knocked on his office door.

"Enter"

Snape's expression darkened when he saw her. With a flick of his wand, her essay flew from her grip and alighted on his desk.

"Next time you forget to bring an assignment to class, you'll be in detention for a week."

 _Did he not remember he had given her an extension?_

"But sir-"

"-Mister Kun, you may go."

Róisín's eyes landed on a stooped figure to her left, picking through a jar of squirming black things. The figure stopped its task and turned around.

Kun did not look well. His eyes were ringed with purple and sunk into the waxy pallor of his face, devoid of the charm they had sparkled with when he had asked her to Hogsmeade.

He left the room without acknowledging Róisín, and when he reached for the doorknob, she saw his hands were covered in little nicks and scratches dripping blood. She looked and realised that the squirming things were beetles with sharp pincers. Beside them was another jar with pincer-less beetles and a pile of little black hooks.

"Is that all, Miss Feral?" Snape asked bluntly when Kun had gone.

"No, sorry sir, I was wondering-" her empty stomach squelched its sides loudly, "-if you have an ointment suitable for a thestral wound?"

"What happened to the thestral?"

"I'm not sure, it has a couple of cuts, it might be from thorns."

Snape stared at her for a long second before standing up abruptly and going to a storage cupboard.

Róisín shook her head to dispel the sudden memory of how his bare torso had moved above her and how he had felt inside her.

"Apply this three times weekly," he instructed and handed her a jar of green paste.

It sounded like a dismissal. Róisín hesitated.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Maybe. I dunno if it means anything, but last Tuesday when Professor Vector was doing the" – Róisín stomach interrupted with a gurgle and she momentarily forgot the word – "the… the thing that reveals whether there's someone influential or unusual in the population -"

"The Dubois transform"

"Yes that one, anyway she thought something was wrong with the result, saying "it's not probable", and then she kinda looked in my direction."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"You think it revealed what you are?"

"I don't know, I read the Dubois transform chapter of the textbook, but it wasn't clear on what type of atypical people it-"

"- I will discuss it with the headmaster," Snape interrupted. Róisín turned to leave when he added, "You were right to tell me."

Her heart skipped.

"Thank you, professor."

Snape sat back at his desk.

"Go eat something before you faint, Miss Feral."

* * *

The school was still buzzing with talk about the Slytherin point loss. Róisín was itching to tell her friends that Kun had spent an entire night de-pincering Bulgarian biting beetles in detention but she couldn't. If she did they'd ask why she was in Snape's office and they'd never believe he had given her an extension for her essay. She kept her ears peeled for snippets of gossip, fascinated as to what Kun had done to merit such punishment from his own head of house.

The rest of the day flew by. In charms she practiced the Fidelius charm by hiding secrets in Anna, her secret keeper, while Ida tried to discover them, in runes they studied an ancient Sumerian text on magical goat husbandry, and in care of magical creatures they had the ambitious task of trimming the hooves of an asalith, a donkey-like creature the size of an African elephant with the hair of a mammoth.

After dinner Róisín decided to research the Dubois transform in the main library. As she was making her way there, she heard a whisper,

"Well, if he wasn't such a faggot…"

The slur made her stomach turn. She looked back to see a white blond head huddled amongst two lumps of muscle. Of course, it was the infamous Malfoy and his minions. Róisín sighed. She had heard the chronicles of his feud with Harry Potter and they did not paint the young aristocrat in a good light.

* * *

"Hey I'm-"

Róisín's coughing interrupted the voice. The primordial dust swimming around the arithmancy section had gone down her throat yet again. She turned from her appraisal of the shelves to a head of bushy curls.

" – I know who you are," she managed to splutter. "Hermione Granger, nice to meet you. I'm Róisín Feral." Granger's eyes brightened at the recognition. "So, how's the saviour of the wizarding world?" Róisín asked.

"Oh, so you believe Harry then," Granger said, looking pleasantly surprised. "He's …fine. I actually have a potions question and a seventh-year told me that you'd know since you're taking NEWTS potions?"

"I am, although I'm hardly a master potioneer," Róisín admitted.

"Oh, well I would ask Professor Snape, but he's very intimidating, don't you think?" Granger asked, her eyes searching Róisín's.

"Yeah, definitely the scariest teacher in the castle," Róisín agreed.

"I get so nervous around him, you know?"

Róisín snorted.

"Yeah, story of my life." There was a pause. The Gryffindor looked as though she expected Róisín to elaborate but instead Róisín asked, "So, what was your question?"

Granger looked down at her notebook,

"Em… here it is, do you know the potions thestral blood is used for?"

Róisín paused.

 _Strange, that's definitely a question a book could answer._

"Off the top of my head… Alihotsy draught, Draught of peace, Gluck juice, Drink of despair, Draught of living death, Grief soothing paste, em… Memorimatus, Oculus potion, Veritaserum…" Róisín frowned in thought, "…and it's rumoured to be used by Flamel in his elixir of life, but I don't know if that's true. Basically, it's in loads of different potions which play with the balance of life and death, happiness and sadness, enlightenment and ignorance." Hermione was still watching her, not taking any notes. "Why do you want to know?" Róisín asked.

"Professor Hagrid's thestral foals have a few cuts. I'd heard before that young thestral blood is magically potent, so I was curious as to… well, if someone was collecting their blood for brewing," Granger explained.

"I hadn't thought of that, the foal I'm looking after has cuts too. We should ask Professor Snape," Róisín replied.

"Oh no, I don't think that's… thanks anyway," Granger said and hurried off like a mole that had smelt a fox.

 _Weird,_ Róisín thought as she returned to reading the spines of books.

A clock chimed. It was already ten o'clock. Róisín shoved "Disrupting Faith through Arithmancy" back onto the shelf, gathered her things and dashed away to her evening Astronomy class.

* * *

Professor Vector knocked. The chorus of loud, sharp whispers behind the door died.

The headmaster's office was cold. The fireplace sat empty and a window was open, allowing snow to cartwheel into the room and gather like dust on the ground.

"Good evening Septima, please take a seat."

Snowflakes had fallen on the shoulders of Professor Dumbledore's unusually drab, grey robe. The headmaster looked tired, and old, as though each of his one hundred and fourteen years had carved a new wrinkle across his face. He sat at his desk with his fingers steepled in front of him. When he addressed the arithmancy professor his words were polite but his tone was rigid,

"I apologise for disturbing you so late in the evening, but this could not wait. Not when our world is in such a precarious position."

The former headmasters of Hogwarts looked down on Professor Vector from all sides as though she were a Death Eater on trial by the Wizengamot. She drew her blood red robes closer to her.

"Of course, professor."

"Last Tuesday you performed a Dubois transform that yielded an unexpected result."

Vector straightened in her seat.

"Unexpected, yes, but also highly improbable, I did not wish to bother-"

The headmaster raised his hand.

"I presume you continued to work on this transform."

"I did."

"Show me your workings."

Vector took out her wand, drew a crescent-moon and called,

"Accio Dubois transform"

A minute later a pile of papers slipped beneath the door and fluttered onto the desk. Vector sat in silence as Dumbledore scanned the pages through his half-moon glasses. When he had finished he regarded her. His eyes were livid.

"Do you remember, professor, the pertinent point I tried to impress upon the teachers of this school at our first staff meeting of the year, and each subsequent meeting?"

Vector raised her chin.

"Of course."

"Do you not believe that a result such as this falls into the category of an unusual occurrence?"

"With all due respect Headmaster, arithmancy is my domain," Vector asserted. "This result is inconclusive. To conclude something this inconceivable requires arithmantic proof more certain than a Gringott brick."

"Tell me that I am too rusty, too old for this quick-witted subject, that I misunderstood the Bernard projector and it does not point to-"

"- Headmaster, I firmly believe this is a false positive, this is a subject of probabilities, there may be a probability of an event, but that does not mean it _will_ occur, we must take the priors into account-"

"- Tell me."

Vector sighed.

"The Bernard equation was greater than the Legrand. It implies He was there. In my classroom."

* * *

 **A/N Thank you so much to everyone reading and especially people who reviewed, your reviews make my day.**


	18. Dragon Saliva

"The bewitched sleep you cast on that mouse was the best in class, Róisín," Ida said. "It could've rivalled the one Salazar himself put on his pet." Róisín half-jogged to keep up with Ida's long legs as they rushed out of Charms.

"Thanks, I'm delighted with it because Flitwick said you should roll the last 'r' in _profundors_ but I managed without," Róisín said breathlessly.

They reached the top of Penchant Tower's spiral staircase.

"Hogwarts let me slide,

Or prof'll have my hide," Ida muttered. The stairs rippled into a smooth surface. The two Ravenclaws sat and pushed off. Five seconds and five floors later, they landed in a heap of disheveled and confused first years. "Apologies," Ida said as they jumped to their feet and headed towards Potions. Róisín, remembering her shock the first time a staircase at Hogwarts had broken her trust, turned back and stated,

"Hogwarts let me climb,

Or tardiness will be my crime."

She ran to catch up with Ida as the stones jutted back into steps. By now, three months into their final year, they'd perfected the dangerously long journey between Charms and Potions so as to arrive at the latter on time, which had included charming the castle and consulting its most ancient blueprints to find hidden shortcuts. They'd been the second students in a century to check the blueprints out of the library, the only name above Ida's on the check-out list being the notorious, recently-escaped-from-Azkaban Sirius Black.

"Yeah, I wasn't doing so well at Charms for a while there, or Transfiguration ...or Defence," Róisín said, continuing their conversation as they jogged through the Dungeons. "But I'm back on track to ace those NEWTs like the true Ravenclaw I am."

"Ace?"

"Sorry, muggle expression, I mean get outstandings. Well, I'm joking, obviously not all outstandings, but hopefully a couple.."

When they reached the Potions Corridor it was already full of their fellow seventh years. Anthony Atkinson held "A History of Mysteries" so close to his face it was as though he were trying to climb into its pages, Lee Jordan appeared to be highlighting every line in "NEWTS Potions for Dummies" and Zoltan Kun's eyes darted back and forth across a piece of paper which had been crumpled and flattened so many times it looked like leather. Those who weren't studying were gossiping about last weekend's quidditch match and Slytherin's point loss or moaning about the mountains of NEWTs homework they were buried under.

* * *

The potions class felt a thousand years long and Róisín hand began to cramp. She dropped her quill and stretched her fingers. The four feet of notes she had written on the mechanisms of magical enzymes in antidotes had unfurled off the workbench and hung an inch above the floor. Around her, nibs scratched furiously like a swarm of rats clawing through the woodwork.

She jotted down another line on the differences between griffin and phoenix enzymes as she tried to focus on the lecture from the man who had taken her virginity, while also trying to forget that fact.

 _Such a misogynistic phrase_ , Róisín thought. _Nothing's been taken from me._

Like a spider darting across the paper, spiky lettering appeared beneath hers. Startled, Róisín snatched her hands away. The parchment slipped to the floor.

For a moment she let it lie beneath her workbench as though she'd let it fall on purpose. Then she surreptitiously climbed down to retrieve it while avoiding eye-contact with her neighbours.

The trespassing words read,

 _Stay behind after class, be discreet_ , in Snape's unmistakable penmanship.

Róisín glanced at her professor. He had not paused in his lecturing.

* * *

"I wanna make sure I get the rest of these notes, you go ahead," Róisín said to Ida as her classmates filed out of the room. She kept her head down scribbling bullet points on the properties of dragon saliva until everyone had left. Then she approached Snape at his desk.

The potions master was correcting essays and Róisín's heart sank for whomever Dennis Creevey was. Snape put Creevey's flayed red essay to the side and flicked his wrist. A stool scraped into place behind her. He gestured for Róisín to sit.

"It's been a week," Snape stated. "How do you feel?"

A week since they'd had sex. She felt dizzy.

"Fine, sir."

"Your magic is under control?"

"Yes." She clenched her hands, praying her magic wouldn't choose that moment to explode a random object.

"And your other symptoms?"

"Em, I feel normal."

Snape looked tense, as though he were sitting on nails.

"Professor McGonagall suggested we meet to discuss how it went last week, to make it more comfortable in the future."

His words squeezed Róisín's heart.

"In the future?" she repeated.

For a moment Snape didn't reply.

"You didn't know," he said finally, his voice unnervingly quiet. She didn't say anything; it felt as though he'd stolen her tongue. "When you met with the headmaster and myself two weeks ago, did you not understand what we discussed, the reason you began to lose control of your magic?"

"Em, I thought I did." Her voice was a whisper. She forced it out a bit louder, "It happened because I'm a sióg."

"Which means if left unfulfilled, your lust will infect your magic." He spoke slowly, in that way he had perfected which told his listener exactly what he thought of their intelligence. "The majority of people wouldn't consider a single sexual encounter fulfilling."

Her thoughts scurried like ants. She'd have to sleep with him again. She'd have to sleep with him for the rest of her life. Her skin itched as her pores opened up to perspire and her bare calves stuck to the metal legs of the stool.

Snape leaned heavily on his elbows and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I realise that you find this revelation unpalatable, however I prefer when my classroom is cool, not tropical, as I find the dunderheads of this school are less inclined to doze off at lower temperatures," he remarked.

Fuck. She had been heating the air around her. She bit her lip and imagined standing beneath a cool waterfall, but the air kept getting hotter, like the inside of a car parked in the sun.

Snape twitched his wand and muttered, " _fridigulus_ ". Róisín almost moaned in relief as the temperature dropped. He spoke again,

"Further relations with myself are not unavoidable. This is your choice, Miss Feral. We have the option to postpone your studies and place you in a secure environment until we find another solution."

"Like St. Mungos?"

"There are other places."

"Are there other solutions?"

For a moment he didn't reply, as if he didn't have an answer. Then he said,

"We could find a more suitable mature wizard, or perhaps just another wizard, seeing as it's not clear exactly what a sióg needs in her partner. That course of action has risks, however, as it means telling someone else about you. "

"Would you prefer that, sir?"

Snape's brow creased.

"My preferences are irrelevant."

"Of course they're relevant!" Róisín exclaimed, her tears swelling. "There are TWO people here, there are TWO people making this decision. I don't want to force you to if you don't want to."

"Stop being ridiculous," Snape ordered. Róisín's hands flexed, aching for something to grab and throw at him. "Sit down, Miss Feral." When had she gotten to her feet? She sat like a scolded dog. Oddly, Snape didn't look furious but mildly amused. "I'm a grown man and your superior, I have no fear that I will be taken advantage of, " he drawled. Róisín blushed. She could feel her nose running but refused to sniffle.

"Em, so what should I do?" she asked, an octave lower than her previous outburst.

Snape arched an eyebrow.

"I cannot decide for you, Miss Feral, I'm not what one would describe as an unbiased observer." His eyes were so dark she thought she'd never find her way back from them.

"I want to stay in the castle and complete my NEWTS," she stated, attempting to sound self-assured.

A muscle in Snape's jaw twitched and he said,

"In that case, come to me when your symptoms return."

Róisín thanked him and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, she remembered her satchel at her workbench. Her face now fiery red, she re-entered the room and retrieved it.

* * *

For Defence the final year Ravenclaws had to write an essay arguing for or against the utilization of dementors as law enforcement tools. They sat around the central fireplace working on it together and by the time Róisín came back from her evening Astronomy class everyone in the common room had joined the debate. Anthony stated facts and statistics as if he had a binder on the subject lodged in his frontal lobe and the youngest Ravenclaws tried to impress the older ones with their intellect. Ida stressed the sanctity of human rights for all and Anna snapped at her exactly where she thought the Death Eaters could shove their rights.

Before Anna had been born, her aunt, an auror, had been killed by Voldemort's crew on Christmas day protecting a muggle village from their attack. Almost two decades later, Anna's mum still couldn't get through the 25th without breaking into tears. The Battworth family suspected Gregor Crabbe had cast the killing blow, a known Death Eater who had managed to escape Azkaban due to lack of evidence. Five years ago when his son, Vincent Crabbe, came to Hogwarts, Anna lost Ravenclaw fifty points when she cursed his family name and spat on the ground in front of him.

Currently Richard had the floor, insisting that those arguing against dementors had yet to suggest feasible alternatives. Róisin sat and listened without commenting. She had points she'd like to make, but in discussions like these she felt an outsider for being raised a muggle, especially as there were few muggleborns in Ravenclaw house. She looked over at Eóghan, who was trying to convince Angus that raising dragons for law enforcement purposes was inhumane.

After a yawn forced Róisín's jaws wide open in front of a poor third year passionately stating his opinion Róisín decided to retreat to her room with only the skeleton of her essay written, promising herself that she would finish it between classes tomorrow. Brushing her teeth lazily, she groaned as she noticed a blemish on her chin. Great. Just what she needed for the party Anna had planned for her that weekend.

Her actual birthday had been yesterday. She had given two whole rashers to the owl who had valiantly delivered five hard-backed books from her father and a huge chocolate cake baked by her mother. The cake had since disappeared down the throats of Ravenclaw house but the books were stacked on her nightside table, eager to be read. Róisín ignored them though, another yawn attacking her mouth as she wriggled out of her clothes and climbed into bed.

She closed her eyes and that night began to replay itself. Again. Like it had every night since she had slept with her professor, as though her eyelids were film that had absorbed and stored it all perfectly. She felt the familiar flood of emotions as she relived crying on his bathroom floor, lighting his bed on fire, touching herself between his sheets, the sight, sound and smell of him moving above her. The feeling of him inside her. In between her legs ached. A memory of the pain lingered there and so did something else. Something that projected the whole mortifying episode onto the inside of her eyelids each night so she could bask in it.

She shoved her hands beneath her underwear and began to touch herself. Her hand moved quickly. She remembered him seconds before he had finished, buckled above her, thrusting harder and faster.

What would he think, if he knew that she was doing this thinking of him?

She was so close.

 _This must be how he felt, right before he came inside me._

The thought made her climax, the sensation gripping her lower abdomen like she'd fallen off a cliff.

She was panting. Her hand was stiff from repeating the same motion and the muscles around her eyes were sore from being squeezed shut. She climbed out of bed, her hot skin prickling against the cool winter air of her room, and went to her bathroom to wash her hands. An ashamed young woman looked back at her from the mirror.

"Is it normal to masturbate every night?", she whispered to her reflection, the ugly word awkward on her lips. It sounded criminal.

She went back to bed. She hadn't been looking forward to the party that weekend, but as she lay there, exhausted and limp from her orgasm, the idea of partying away all her worries didn't sound so bad. Maybe she could even forget about her bloody professor for a few hours.


	19. Kissed

"Your NEWTS may seem like everything to you now, but _this_ "- Professor Lupin flicked on the old-style projector - "is why we are studying Defence against the Dark Arts."

The class hushed.

A young child, perhaps five or six years old, stared down at them from the wall. If curiosity had ever lit the girl's big, green eyes, and if laughter had ever tumbled out of her rosy cheeks, there was no trace of it now. She looked as if she'd been carved from wax.

The image was still and had been taken from a muggle newspaper. A caption read: "Above: Lucy Walsh, diagnosed with severe post-traumatic stress disorder of unknown cause."

Angelina, the Gryffindor chaser, broke the silence,

"Who would curse such a young child?"

"She was not cursed," Lupin replied. "She was kissed."

Mutters erupted around the class like bubbles in water on a hot stove. Someone asked,

"But how?" followed by another,

"What on earth was she doing in Azkaban?"

"She was nowhere near Azkaban." Lupin's stern voice cut through the muttering. Behind him, the girl watched like a porcelain doll. "She was playing on a street near her home. I know it's painful to accept, but we cannot deny what it means when the soul has been sucked from a muggle child." Lupin paused and each student felt the weight of his gaze. "Lord Voldemort has returned and the dementors are under His control." Several people gasped at the dark wizard's name. "It is therefore of utmost importance that we practice the patronus charm as it is the only effective means of combating dementors."

A prickly wave washed over Róisín as her hair began to stand up. Would a dementor be able to tell she was different?

Lupin took out his wand and pronounced clearly,

"Expecto Patronum!"

A large wolf, shaggy like the professor's own attire, prowled out of his wand. Lupin explained how to conjure a patronus by focusing on positive memories while the students admired the shimmering creature. Then they started practicing themselves.

Róisín flicked her wand with frustration as she tried the charm for the tenth time. A tiny wisp of white sprouted and disappeared. The haunted face projected on the wall judged her feeble attempts, and even when Róisín shut her eyes the girl was still visible, burnt onto her retina like the sun.

Half an hour later, a silky cat poured out of Anna's wand.

"Excellent, excellent, Miss Battworth!" Lupin exclaimed. "I'm not surprised you're the first to conjure a corporal form." Anna beamed at him as her patronus slinked around his legs. Róisín felt a pang of envy.

"What were you thinking of?" she asked Anna.

"That time last summer, remember I slept over and you could _not_ stop laughing for like, half an hour?" Róisín frowned, thinking, Anna pressed on, "Remember I put the clothes in the dishwasher to wash them, trying to be helpful, and I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong?"

"Oh yeah!" Róisín giggled at the memory. "The look on my mum's face!"

By the end of class Róisín's patronus had barely improved. The only other student to achieve a corporal form was Angelina, whose proud lioness circled the room. As her classmates filed out Róisín approached Lupin at his desk.

"Sir, I was just wondering, did the dementor know that child was a muggle? Can they see like humans do, or do they sense you in a different way?"

The scar spanning Lupin's face creased as he sat back, thinking.

"Yes, the dementor would have known, they can sense the nature of the living things around them. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Róisín replied nonchalantly, although her heart clenched as though she'd tripped. She thanked her professor and hurried off to catch up with Anna and Ida.

* * *

That night, Róisín slept with her candles lit, as every time she blew them out she couldn't help but imagine a swarm of dementors looming around her bed in the darkness.


	20. Dancing on Moonstone

It was the night of the party. The coffee tables and mantelpieces were laden with goodies pilfered from the kitchens and the Hungry Horntails were blasting "Dancing on Moonstone" from the common room gramophone. Róisín and Anna worked on de-shrinking the butterbeers they had snuck in from Hogsmeade as winged glitterbuds Anna had cut from a glitzshrub in Greenhouse two drifted around the room, bouncing into the Ravenclaws who had started gathering around and chatting.

The two girls nipped up to Anna's room to slather on a few final glamour charms and knocked on Ida's door to drag her from her new favourite textbook, "Medieval NEWTS Potions". As they trotted downstairs into the now crowded common room, a whiff of air blew past Róisín's upper thigh; Anna had charmed her skirt shorter.

"I saw that," Róisín said and brushed her hand along the hem while muttering a lengthening charm.

Anna whistled at her.

"Your wandless magic is unreal, Róisín."

"Oh, that's…I've been practicing."

The three girls pasted the walls with silencing charms as they moved around the room making small talk. Anthony had taken a rare study break to wish Róisín a happy birthday and before long they were discussing the optimal ratio of memorisation versus note-taking.

Something popped and crackled. Róisín turned from Anthony, glad for the distraction.

"The Gryffindors have arrived," Anthony sighed.

Sparks shot above the party-goers and burst into red, green, blue and amber. The colours morphed into caricatures of their heads of houses who began squabbling and chasing after a sparkly house cup with wings. The Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan were controlling the cartoon professors like video game characters.

A hand grabbed Róisín's arm.

"The Weasley's are here!" Anna exclaimed as she pulled her away from Anthony.

"Yeah, so? It's not like them to miss a party," Róisín said. "Oh yeah, you kissed one of them at the Yule ball last year, which one was it again?"

"That's the _problem_ ; I don't remember!" A snort burst from Róisín. Eóghan's friend Richard passed by and slipped a glass of bubble brandy into each of their hands. "Think Anna, think!" Anna said to herself, "I definitely kissed one of them twice, once on Snacker's Staircase and another time behind the one-eyed witch…" She smacked her hand to her mouth. "Or maybe… I kissed both of them once!" Anna popped her head up and must have seen the Gryffindor beaters coming because she shouted out, "BIRTHDAY KISSES!" with an amplifying charm so loud it left Róisín temporarily deaf and choking on brandy bubbles.

Róisín felt the floor leave her feet. Angus, the Ravenclaw beater, lifted her onto his shoulders and carried her into the middle of the common room. As per tradition, the young men began lining up. The brandy bubbled up Róisín's throat. Angus plonked her back on her feet.

Richard came first. He winked at her and said,

"As prefect, I suppose I'll let this little transgression" – he gestured at the party – "go this time."

"Oh, will you?" Róisín teased, as she raised the brandy he had given her pointedly. Richard gave her a polite kiss on the check. Anna cried out "One!"

A Weasley twin kissed her next, "Two!", then Lee Jordan, "Three!", then another Weasley twin, "Four!", then Angus, who picked her up and swung her around, giving her a loud kiss on the ear which Róisín gave him a light smack for.

Anna shouted "Five!"

Another face of orange freckles popped up.

"You've already got your kiss!" Róisín protested.

The twin shot his eyes to heaven,

"No, that was Fred stealin' a second kiss." Róisín lifted her eyebrows skeptically. "Don't punish me for his transgressions, it's the story of my life," the Weasley objected.

"Oh fine!" Róisín conceded and presented her cheek.

"Only, joking, Fred hasn't kissed you at all yet," the twin admitted, before kissing her cheek and pointing to his partner in crime who was chatting up Angelina on the other side of the room. Róisín shook her head in faux annoyance.

"Six!"

The strapping Roman Jacquet came next, kissing her cheek, "Seven!", before presenting her with a very nice bottle of Elvish-wine on behalf of house Hufflepuff.

More kisses came.

"Eight!"

Kiss.

"Nine!"

Kiss.

Then it was Eóghan.

Róisín's face was already flushed when he placed his hands on her upper arms and kissed her cheek, his stubble rough against her skin. He pulled away, her cheek tingling, and she threw her arms around him as Sting from the Police cried "so lonely" from the gramophone. He whispered in her ear,

"Happy Birthday, Róisín" and Róisín let him go.

She didn't feel the next eight kisses; Eóghan's kiss was branded on her cheek, eclipsing the rest.

"EIGHTEEN!" Anna roared, before grabbing Róisín and kissing her square on the lips. The rest of the room erupted into laughter and whistling. Anna pulled back and cried with a gasp, "NINETEEN!". Róisín grinned and hugged her best friend.

"Look at you, disrupting the gender roles!" Róisín teased.

"All nineteen kisses for the boys? We can't be having that," Anna said.

* * *

The frog's tongue whipped towards the fly. The black dot dodged and continued racing towards Ida's open mouth. Fly-Tongue was the second drinking game of the night. The first game, Giggly Goblet Guzzlers, had gone badly for Róisín. She'd drank eight goblets of gigglewater before she'd managed to sing the Guzzle song without erupting into giggles. She suspected a discreet sombre charm from Ida had saved her.

Now, Anna had to charm her chocolate frog to protect Ida from a sugar fly which was bewitched by the Weasleys to invade her mouth. If the frog caught the fly before it reached Ida the twins would have to drink two thimbles of firewhiskey, otherwise Anna and Ida would have to.

Mid-hop, the frog fell to the floor. The fly hit the back of Ida's throat and the frog cracked into pieces like an Easter egg. Ida shot Anna an annoyed look. But Anna wasn't looking at her Fly-Tongue partner.

Zoltan Kun and Charles Balthazar had entered the room. They were followed by Julien Marchand, Graham Montague, Naishiye Kiserian and Sofia Nott.

The Slytherins had come.

The room shrank as the other guests parted for them like water for a ship.

"Did Nott just arrive at _my_ birthday party?" Róisín asked aloud.

Sofia Nott, Queen of Slytherin, Head Girl, and the most beautiful person Róisín had ever seen, looked around the room like a landlady visiting her tenement. Her strawberry-blond hair stood out beautifully against her emerald robes. In fact, the Slytherins were all immaculately dressed in wizarding attire. Surrounded by students in jeans and t-shirts they looked as though they had come to see a play with muggle characters.

"Hey, the arrival of the snakes doesn't get you off the hook," Fred or George stated and gestured to the smoking thimbles. Anna threw hers back like a pro, but Ida hesitated, scrunching her face in disgust. Ida hated drinking. Róisín took the firewhiskey from her and downed it, grabbing her neck as the burning liquid incinerated her throat.

"You owe me," she croaked at Ida.

"We better go and say hello," Ida said, nodding towards the Slytherins.

"Why did they even come to a _Mudblood's_ party?" Róisín wondered aloud.

"Maybe they don't know you're muggleborn," Angelina suggested.

"Well they can bugger off," Fred or George said.

"Yeah I've got a Cornish pixie in my pocket, should I slip it down Balthazar's robes?" the other twin suggested.

"No, they're guests," Róisín asserted. "Maybe they're trying to get to know people from the others houses and move beyond that pureblood malarky."

"Maybe," Angelina replied incredulously.

"I don't want _precious_ Sofia Nott here," Anna spat. "A member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight _truly-pureblood club_ at my best friend's party, a muggleborn."

"I think there's more than one sacred twenty-eighter here," Ida commented.

"Nah, the Balthazars were struck off because of Loki Balthazar; the son Charles' grandfather had out of wedlock with his muggle servant," Anna reported.

"Loki Balthazar's a half-blood? But he married an Avery!" Róisín interjected.

"Ehem," Fred and George interrupted loudly. The girls turned to them. "I think you'll find there are other members of the sacred-twenty eight present."

There was a pause.

"Oh the Weasleys!" Anna exclaimed. "Of course, the proudest of the purebloods, tell me, how does it feel to be part of the wizarding elite?"

"Pretty awful actually," one twin replied.

"Yeah it's our family's biggest shame," the other said. "Dad keeps introducing us to local muggle girls in the hope that we'll fall in love."

It turned out they didn't need to go and welcome the Slytherins. Balthazar and Nott were heading towards them.

Balthazar was uncommonly tall, but unlike the Weasley twins, who stuck out like giraffes in a field of horses, Balthazar was statuesque, giving the impression that he was the correct size and those around him were miniature. His jawline was infamous for breaking hearts. Although too unruly to be made head boy or prefect, he was captain of the quidditch team and de facto leader of Slytherin house. Most importantly however, he was Sofia Nott's boyfriend, and everything about him was perfect for the job.

"Gods, we may hate them, but we can't deny their babies will be gorgeous," Anna whispered to Róisín.

"Róisín Feral, happy birthday," Sofia said cordially and air kissed both of her cheeks. "And of course Anna Battworth, I'm delighted to see you fully recovered." Sofia's words pulled a knot in Róisín's stomach. "Very generous of you to extend your invitation to all four houses."

"In Ravenclaw we don't exclude people," Anna replied. "Thanks so much for coming."

"I was expecting a cosy kind of attic up here, but it's actually quite pretty," Sofia commented ignoring Anna's remark.

"Yes, we have a beautiful common room," Anna said.

The four Gryffindors stood behind Anna and Róisín like bodyguards.

"I hear we'll be playing the entire Weasley clan next week," Balthazar said to them.

Róisín and Anna glanced at each other. Everyone had heard the "Weasley is our King" chants from the Slytherins mocking Gryffindor's new keeper, Ron Weasley. Even Róisín had caught herself humming the jingle, it was so damn catchy.

"Yeah, apparently the saviour of the wizarding world told your head of house where to go, so Malfoy'll have to watch our little sister catch the snitch instead of Harry for a change."

 _Potter's been kicked off the team because he spoke back to Snape?_ This was news to Róisín.

Anna cut in before Balthazar could respond,

"-I'm sure you're parched, there are drinks and snacks over there, why don't you try some?" She gestured to the other side of the room. After the Slytherins walked away, Róisín hugged Anna tightly.

"What was that for?" Anna asked.

"Nothing," Róisín replied, beaming at her.

More people from the other houses continued to squeeze into the common room. Someone had scrawled the evening's riddle, _My eggs are second best. I dwarf dragons in the sky and steal woodpecker hidey-holes, what am I?_ and the answer, _an occamy,_ onto a piece of paper and pinned it outside, much to the disdain of the bronze eagle knocker. Ostensibly it was so they wouldn't have to open the door every five minutes to newcomers but many suspected it was a dig at the other houses' intellects. Róisín was certain that half of the people laughing and dancing didn't know who the party was for and for that she was glad; the liquor had begun to make her feel wobbly and silly.

Angus and Eóghan challenged Róisin and Anna to another drinking game, "pin the tail on the hippogriff" and they accepted, hoping to fare better against them than they had against the Gryffindors. Unfortunately the alcohol from the previous games had blunted Róisín's accuracy; she pinned the tail on the hippogriff's face twice and on poor Angus once. She ranted between gulps of cider and hiccoughs about how drinking games were just a downward spiral for the weak where the worst players got drunk, lost more and therefore had to drink more in a horrible cycle that went on and on, while the rest of her friends howled in laughter.

She went to pee, certain that at this point she was only a liability to the team, leaving Anna to play for them both. On her way back from the bathroom she met Zoltan Kun, who stepped out of a group of Slytherins to greet her.

"You sure know how to throw a party Miss Feral," he said.

"Well, _Anna_ knows-s how to throw one," Róisín slurred. She blushed. She was well-oiled in firewhiskey and Kun knew.

"I've never been to Ravenclaw tower at night, it's breathtaking," he said, gesturing to the windows encircling the common room. Outside, the castle lights shown below and stars sparkled above, as though the whole world had been studded with diamonds. "My apologies for missing your birthday kisses." He kissed her cheek.

"I'm s-surprised you came. I didn't think Slytherinss fraternised with the en-en-enemy," Róisín teased.

"Gryffindor is our enemy, Ravenclaw is just some light competition."

"I wouldn't call a two-huuuundred-point lead light competission."

"Well aren't you cheeky?" Kun said as he leaned closer. Róisín could barely hear him above the crescendo of Tonight Tonight by the Smashing Pumpkins.

"I'm not being cheeky, you can only be cheeky to yer superiorss."

"Is that true?" He lifted an eyebrow at her.

Tonight Tonight hit its climax and Róisín did a little hop.

"God, I looove this song!" She stumbled back and Kun caught her neatly with an arm around her back. His hand lingered as she steadied herself against him.

"S-sorry," Róisín slurred.

"What has you so merry?"

"Gigglewater mostly, firewhissky, oh and this" - Róisín raised the bottle of pink bubbles in her hand, as though she had forgotten it was there - "Angus's lethal home-brewed truckleberry cider. I didn't know it was possible for something to be both so sweet and sso bitter."

"Maybe this" – Kun produced a bottle of Elvish champagne – "will rinse the taste from your mouth."

"That looks _expensive_ ," Róisín blurted.

"On behalf of House Slytherin, and courtesy of the Montague's French vineyard, happy birthday," Kun declared. He took the bottle of cider from her hand and replaced it with a conjured champagne flute, which he filled generously with the golden bubbles.

The glass was gone from her grip. Róisín examined the floor, looking for where she had dropped it.

"Mmmm delicious." Anna smacked her lips beside her.

"Hey, don't steal my presents!" Róisín teased. She grabbed the glass back from her friend and took a gulp. It tasted like strawberries and cream eaten in the sunshine.

The hottest muggle track of the year, "Gangsta's Paradise", started to play and Róisín started laughing so hard she doubled over. Kun and Anna grabbed her shoulders and the concerned looks on their faces just caused her to squeal with more laughter.

"You have - " Róisín's couldn't get the words out - "no idea how " - more giggles burst out - " bizarre it is to see a room full of teenage wissards, WISSARDS, dancing to muggle gangster RAP!" She howled the last word, her sides aching with the absurdity of it.

Kun and Anna, both pure-bloods, obviously didn't understand just how ridiculous this was, so Róisín decided to find Eóghan and split their sides together over it. "Have you s-seen Eóghan ressently?" Róisín asked Anna. Her best friend wasn't paying her any attention though; she was watching a certain red-head make his way towards her.

"I'm gonna go chat up that Weasley," Anna said.

"I thought you were avoiding them?" Róisín asked, but Anna had already marched away towards the Gryffindor.

Róisín shook her head at her friend. Then her head lay against something warm and firm. She put her hand on it. Oh, it was Kun's chest. The shaking had made her dizzy. He must have caught her again. She took a step back. Where _was_ Eóghan?

The rapper's American twang rang in her ears:

 _Fool, death ain't nothin' but a heartbeat away_

 _I'm livin' life do or die, what can I say?_

"Jaysus, the music is sooo loud!" Róisín exclaimed.

"Would you like to dance?" Kun asked.

"Yeah, I think sso. I'm attracted to you and want to be closer to your body, but I'm s-stressed because I need to find Eóghan."

Kun smiled at her. All white-teeth and sharp jawlines. Róisin's heart fluttered.

"Let's dance first and then we'll find him," Kun said. He took her hand, leading her as he pushed through the horde of teenagers rubbing against each other with little skill or rhythm. The room was throbbing with people. _When did the whole castle show up?_

Róisín started bobbing her head and moving her hips to the beat. The music was pumping. Kun said something but Róisín only saw his lips moving.

" _What?"_ she mouthed at him. He bent down and whispered in her ear,

"How's the champagne?"

Her flute was full. _Weird._ She thought she had drank it all. Not wanting to seem ungrateful she took another big swig.

"It's probably the most delissshuss thing I've ever put in my mouth! Although I am worried dat I'm drunk."

Róisín rubbed her pinky finger. It was tingling. The sensation reached through her haze of drowsiness and drunkenness as though it had been trying to do so for some time.

The music slowed. The dancers started to pair up as the lead singer of the Charming Conjurers crooned over his Veela lover and Róisín found herself in Kun's arms. A blanket of sleepiness wrapped itself around her and she lent heavily on him, her hands around his waist and his thigh supporting her, pressing between hers. His smell made her chest swell as though she wanted to trap and keep it there.

It was too much. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. She slipped her hands away from him, and something crinkled against them. A piece of paper was poking out of an inner pocket of his jacket. The paper had a grubby look as though it had been read and reread many times and the lettering across it looked like something out of Lord of the Rings.

"Hey, Róisín, are you alrigh'?" She looked up to Angus' broad face, the set of his jaw stern ."It's gettin' late maybe you should head to bed."

"So it's true," Kun replied before Róisín got a chance to, "Ravenclaw parties do end before anyone has too much fun."

"Well I don't know about you Slytherins, but in this house we look out for each other," Angus snapped back.

"Oh, I didn't realise I was at a Hufflepuff party," Kun drawled.

Róisín looked back and forth between them. Angus' face was ruddy and puffed with indignation. Kun looked faintly amused. Who was Angus trying to look out for? Why was he so angry? The Weird Sisters were screaming from the gramophone,

 _Your hands are shaking baby_

 _You ain't been sleeping lately_

She stumbled away from the two men.

"Are you ok?" Angelina asked kindly. Róisín had bumped into her.

"Oh, s-sorry, em, I don't know, the boyss around me are acting strange," Róisín replied and continued wandering.

The silver stars in the carpet zoomed towards her face. A strong hand gripped her upper arm and pulled her roughly to her feet.

"I see you're celebrating the Irish way," Charles Balthazar remarked as he snapped his hand away as though she were unclean. Graham Montague, the lump of muscle infamous for his violence on the Quidditch pitch and Julien Marchand, the snide Slytherin Róisín knew from potions, sniggered at her.

"T-Tanks for catching me. Although der's no need to be racisst," Róisín said and stomped away. She heard the three Slytherins roar with laughter behind her. Her eyes stung with tears.

She nudged through a group of students playing Gobblet Guzzlers and almost tripped on someone's shoe when she felt a hand covered in cool and silky fabric catch her forearm and steady her. She looked up to thank the hand's owner but they weren't there. She looked around, trying to find Anna, but she couldn't see through the wall of taller students around her.

" _Ego levi"_ , she whispered. The floor dropped from her as she drifted a few feet upwards. She wobbled, suspended in the air. Then a hand grabbed hers and pulled her gently down. She landed in Kun's arms. He grinned at her.

"It's probably not a good idea to let anyone see you doing wandless magic, right?" Kun said as he put her back on her feet.

"Yeah, that's right, Snape'd be so angry if anyone finds ou-" Róisín's throat closed up, and for a horrible moment that seemed to stretch forever she couldn't breathe. Then she coughed and spluttered. Kun patted her back and held her upper arms firmly in his hands. His green eyes fixed on hers with thin, cat-like pupils.

 **BANG**

The sound was so loud Róisín's whole body felt it. Kun spun towards the noise and Róisín saw a whip of Ida's blond hair before she grabbed Róisín's upper arm and pulled her into an adjacent door. Ida didn't losen her grip as she dragged Róisín farther into the narrow library.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Róisín yelled, her eardrums ringing like a brass cymbal.

"A Weasley firework," Ida replied, marching her through the maze of books and up a narrow staircase. The ringing continued.

"IS THERE FIRE? WE HAVE TO GO BACK!" Róisín urged.

"No, it can't set anything on fire, it's fine."

"Why did the Weasley's set it off? They're sso fucking stup-"

"They didn't. I did." Ida shut the door behind them. They were in a tiny annex in a turret off a turret. Here, the music hummed softly like a distant beehive. Ida turned to Róisín. "Anna's saying things she shouldn't. Secrets she would never say. _Your_ secrets."

"Wha-, I don'-" Róisín stammered.

"Richard saw you and Kun together and asked Anna what was going on," Ida explained, speaking quickly and clearly. "Anna started talking about that day you kissed Eóghan and ended up in the hospital wing like two months ago, the thing we promised not to talk about, focus, Róisín!" Róisín was shaking her head, pressing her hands into her temples. "You need to listen to me! Kun shouldn't be interested in you, not like that, it doesn't make any sense."

"That's kinda mean-"

"Listen Róisín!" Ida begged. "You were right! Baumidgers don't eat loquitiflos flower heads, nor do they eat African spider ivy, especially when it's so badly infected with fungi as mine and Anna's that it glows, but the spider ivy _can_ be used as a substitute for bioluminescent mushrooms when it's infected, and, along with thestral blood and loquitiflos heads, it can be used to make-"

"Veritaserum," Róisín whispered, her eyes wide. She saw what Ida was getting at like she had wiped the fogged mirror of her mind. "The thesstral foals didn't cut themself in the undergrowth, s-someone… someone took their blood."

"Exactly."

"And the other stuff, the other ingredients?"

"I know distilled moonlight can be collected in a lunaquidator, which I've seen before in Dervish and Banges. The rest could be found in the forbidden forest, if one tried hard enough, except ghost mantis legs, which I suppose could be stolen from Professor Snape's stores-"

"Ornickedfromthefloor!" Róisín exclaimed, her words tumbling from her mouth in a rush of barely distinguishable syllables. Ida shot her a confused look. "Lee Jordan dropped a jar of them when we were makin' invisibility potions. Snape took twenty points from him."

"I don't remember that."

"You weren't there, mostly everyone had already left."

"Who was there?"

"Well, Jordan em… Anthony, oh and Kun."

Ida shot her a meaningful look.

It was as though she were an ant on a spinning top, everything in Róisín's head seemed to move so fast.

Her little finger tingled again.

"Anna's telling a pinky promise secret, I hope she doesn't talk about the thing with Eógh-" Róisín lost her voice. The muscles of her face strained painfully.

"RÓISÍN!" Ida cried, "What's wrong?!"

Róisín's brain shouted at her lungs to breathe but they refused as though convinced she were under water. The pressure built in her skull like it were going to pop.

" _Maledicto Revelio!"_ Ida shouted and digged her wandtip into Róisín's chest. A ghost of Róisín appeared between them, it's tongue squirming, twisting, knotting painfully around inself. Through her ghost-self, Róisín saw Ida's pupils expand with fear. "Tongue-tying curse," Ida whispered.

Róisín still couldn't breathe.

"Ok, ok, ok, I don't care Róisín, don't try and talk about it, forget it, what's your mother's maiden name?" Ida asked desperately.

"M-McCarthy," Róisín spluttered. She gasped for breath. The air was delicious.

"Who's our head of house?" Ida pressed.

"Filius Flitwick." Róisín's chest went in and out like she had been sprinting, but she could breathe.

"Go get help. Now. I'll stay and get everyone out."

"But how?"

Ida produced what looked like a black marble from her robes.

"A stink bomb," she stated. "Summon Eóghan's broom."

"What, why?!"

"It's more likely to come to you than me, it knows you!"

"But-but there isn't a clear path," Róisín said, puzzled.

"Make one," Ida ordered.

"Accio moontrimmer," Róisín said timidly. She felt her magic nudge against a barrier. Suddenly the music got a fraction louder, like one of the doors between them and the common room had been opened. "ACCIO MOONTRIMMER!" Róisín cried.

Seconds later, the broom burst through the ceiling and hit Róisín's stomach, winding her. Her abdomen began to sting painfully and she gagged for breath. A red stain grew in the belly of her t-shirt. Something sharp had nicked her skin. Róisín twisted the broom in her hands, confused. It had glass shards stuck in it's handle, as thought it'd broken a windowpane to get there.

Ida thrust her wand at the window behind them and shouted,

"Reducto!"

Róisín jumped with shock as the glass exploded into a sandy mist. The icy wind gushed into the room, howling as it whipped their hair.

Ida couldn't be thinking what Róisín thought she was thinking.


	21. The Legilimens

Mist covered the grounds of Hogwarts. Looking down from the gaping window, it looked like Ravenclaw tower were floating in clouds. Róisín's feet tingled, her legs wobbled, and the broom she was holding trembled in her hands. It was a long way down.

"Fly to Pomfrey, or Flitwick, or Dumbledore," Ida shouted, her words disappearing into the shrieking wind. "I don't know, but you've got to get out of here, I can't lift that curse, and with the veritaserum it could be fatal."

Róisín nodded and gripped the broomstick tighter, careful to avoid the glass shards encrusted in its handle. She kicked off the ground and hovered in the little annex, bumping against the bookshelves around her. _Body close to broom, feet tucked, elbows in, body close to broom, feet tucked_ … she repeated to herself. She hadn't practiced with Eóghan in weeks.

The stairs outside the door creaked as though someone were climbing them.

"Go! Now!" Ida exclaimed.

With a surge of anxiety Róisín leant forward and flew out the window.

She fell, plummeting to the ground as though Ida had betrayed her with a muggle broom. Her intestines leapt to her throat and Róisín tugged the handle up with all her strength. She somersaulted upwards. It was sickening and out of control but away from the hard ground below. _Feet tucked, elbows in_ … Finally, she managed to steady the moontrimmer, although the alcohol and nerves were causing her to experience turbulence, to put it mildly.

Her dress was short and thin and her exposed legs and arms were red raw from the freezing air, like it were ice her body had to cut through. She curved around Ravenclaw tower and headed towards Slytherin's Dungeon quarter, keeping close to the castle walls to avoid the worst of the wind. She had to go to Snape. She was tongue-tied from talking to Flitwick or Pomfrey and she'd eat her broom before she knocked at the Headmaster's office after midnight, drunk. The potions professor was her only option. She squeezed her knees together, suddenly feeling as though she were going to wet herself at the thought of Snape seeing her this intoxicated on school grounds. She would've killed for a sober-up potion. If only she'd brewed one before the party, but she'd agreed with Anna that there wouldn't be any strong liquor. Then the Gryffindors had turned up with firewhiskey, Richard with his father's brandy, and the gigglewater, who'd even brought that?

A sudden gust flung her sideways. She tried to maintain her balance by repositioning her hands and pain shot through her palm as though an animal had sunk its teeth into it. Reflexively she dropped the broom. The glass roofs of the Greenhouses zoomed towards her. She reached desperately for the falling moontrimmer and as it surged magically into her open grip another glass shard in its handle sliced into her. She was momentarily blind, scrunching her face against the pain. The pointed tip of a triangular greenhouse roof hit her shin and she hurled herself away. Her legs kicked with pain and she was tumbling through the air again.

A bus hit her.

A flying bus. Or a huge boulder hurtling through the sky. The pain was a screaming, living thing. Then she hit the ground with a thump.

Something massive was moving above her. Its countless limbs wooshed and creaked. Róisín opened her eyes to see the black silhouette of the Whomping Willow towering above her, blocking the moonlight. It bristled its leaves and pulled back a huge branch. She rolled and scrambled to her feet just before the branch walloped the ground, pounding into the dirt her shoe which had slipped off her. Pain shot up her leg and she hopped away on the other foot, a white hot pang stabbing her in the chest at every bounce or breath. She put the broom between her legs and tugged herself into the air. She flew low over the grounds, the grass sparkling with dew beneath her. The Stone Bridge loomed ahead and she swept under it, reducto'd a stained glass window as its inhabitants leapt out of the way, tumbled into the Viaduct Entrance, and flew down the Long Gallery towards Octagon Tower. She bit her lip hard, trapping her pain inside.

The Dungeon passageways were narrow, and Róisín hurtled through them recklessly, grazing herself against the stone walls again and again, the pain of the scrapes eclipsed by the throbbing in her leg and chest. She skidded to a halt outside the potion master's office.

She knocked. Silence answered. She knocked again, harder, tears squeezing from her eyes. Still more silence. The sound was unbearable.

She was pounding both fists against the door when she heard it. A clicking, a sliding and a prickling passing over her skin, a wave of magic. Wards being pulled down. Then the door opened.

Severus Snape was standing at his desk, his hair rumpled and his shirt half-untucked from his trousers. She had never seen him look so unkempt. Or so serious.

"Miss Feral, tell me-" He paused as he stepped towards her. "Who attacked you?" he demanded.

Róisín wobbled, her one supporting leg giving up.

"The Whomping Willow," she replied in the automatic way the veritaserum made her speak, then she crumpled forward. Snape caught her in his arms and carried her to his desk, the door slamming behind them with his magic.

The contents of his desk swooshed to one side as though swept by an invisible arm. Snape dropped Róisín onto the cleared space and began to cast spells. He spoke to her between his incantations,

"I need to know if a man - if you were assaulted."

"I wasn't."

"Don't lie to me."

"I can't, sspiked... veritasserum," she slurred.

"What?" Snape snapped.

"I've been sspiked with veritaserum."

His magic tingled over her skin.

"Your femur is fractured. To heal it, I need to place my hand on your thigh. May I do so?" Snape said through his teeth.

"Yeah cus yer' my su-superior and don' need permission," she answered like a malfunctioning robot.

Snape looked down at her like he wanted to take every point Ravenclaw had earned in the last thousand years away.

"I'm asking you to give me permission, can you do that?"

Róisín nodded, not wanting to open her mouth to the veritaserum.

He placed his hand on her upper thigh, partly beneath the hem of her dress. It felt warm against her frigid skin and Róisín squirmed at the sensation. Snape's jaw tensed. He pointed his wand at her leg and whispered in Latin. There was a flash of pain. Then the burning in her leg softened to a dull ache.

"You have two broken ribs. May I heal them also?" he snapped.

"Yer' my professor, you can do wha you like."

"I cannot do _what I like_ ," he said, his lips barely moving, but he placed his hand on her ribcage anyway, just beneath her left breast. Another flash and the stabbing pain subsided. Róisín let out an involuntary moan of relief. Snape stepped away and Róisín sat up.

"Who gave you the veritaserum?" he asked sternly.

"I don't know."

"Who have you been drinking with?

"Most of the seventhhh years."

Snape towered above her, hands on hips, his lank hair framing his face.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Don' remember." Nausea bubbled in her stomach as the veritaserum vomited what she did remember past her lips, "At least eight gobbles of gigglewater, two, no, three thimbles of firewhiskey, sips of bub-bubble brandy…" Snape raised his hand and Róisín cowered, thinking he was about to strike her. His brow furrowed and Róisín realised he was holding his wand. The veritaserum continued to push words out of her, "Truckleberry cider, butterbeer…"Snape brushed the tip of his wand against a gash on her arm. "Oh, a flute of elves champagne," she finished. He muttered an incantation.

"Your blood alcohol level is not deadly, although high enough to expel you on the spot." _Expel?_ Róisín brought the heels of her hands to her eyes to force the thought away. "I have more pressing concerns however," Snape continued. "Which affluent housemate provided you with Elvish champagne?"

"Not a Ravenclaw. Zoltan Kun."

Snape's eyes flashed at the name.

"Zoltan Kun gave you the champagne?"

"Yes"

"Where is he now?" he pressed.

"I-I don' know."

A black painting flew out of a desk drawer and into Snape's hands.

"Phineas" he called. A wizard with a pointed beard appeared in the gilded frame, looking displeased. "Find Zoltan Kun. Immediately." Phineas huffed with irritation and left the frame.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," Snape muttered. A sparkling doe leapt from his wand-tip and disappeared through the door. He turned back to Róisín. "Did you tell him what you are?"

"I don't know." The alcohol sloshed sickeningly in Róisín's stomach. "I don't remember. I-I tink I drank too much."

"Well that's a bloody understatement," he spat. "If he knows-"

"Ahem"

The pointy wizard had returned to the frame. "The boy is in his common room," he stated, his accent gratingly posh, "he's chatting with his fellow Slytherins about the _wild_ birthday party they attended this evening in Ravenclaw tower, thrown for a certain Róisín Feral."

If the combination of veritaserum and tongue-tie curse didn't kill Róisín, the look Snape shot her certainly would.

"Watch Kun. Keep me informed of his whereabouts," Snape told the portrait.

"Perhaps if I were enlightened as to why-"

"Now," Snape ordered.

Phineas rolled his eyes and disappeared again. Snape took Róisín's hands roughly and started healing the gashes on her palms.

"Is anyone else injured?"

"No"

"Is anyone else dangerously intoxicated"

"I don'- know, maybe. I tink I was the drunker, the-the drunkest."

"Why were you near the Whomping Willow?"

"I flew into it."

"You _flew_ into it," he repeated. Róisín nodded. Snape muttered something under his breath, but all Róisín caught was, "like moths to a flame".

"Pardon sir?"

"Lie down," he directed. Róisín obeyed. He pulled her t-shirt up to expose the gash above her belly button and Róisín hissed as the fabric unstuck from the congealed blood. "I need to know what happened tonight, Miss Feral. Tell me or I will force you to."

It felt like Róisín's insides were boiling in a rancid stew. She tried to focus on the events of the previous couple of hours but she couldn't push the nausea down.

"I-I was at the party, em.. I was talkin' and playin'-" Her stomach contracted violently. Róisín sat up, pushed her professor out of the way and threw up on his office floor.

The sound of her vomit splattering was so revolting Róisín gagged again, but this time nothing came up. She stared at the sludge of semi-processed sugary alcohol and begged herself not to cry. Her hands shook where they gripped Snape's desk. She didn't dare look at him.

Snape vanished the mess.

" _Scourgify_ ," she heard him hiss. His scouring charm rubbed her entire body like sandpaper. "I don't have time for this," he growled. " _Legilimens_!"

Image after image raced past her eyes, blinding Róisín to her surroundings, all disjointed like a thousands film strips muddled up…..

She was six, her father was walking into the house laden with suitcases and her heart was bursting with joy... She was eight, screaming and pounding the locked windows of the car as her parents carried Whiskey, their old Irish setter, into the vets for the last time…It was the day of her first holy confirmation, she was spinning in the dress her mother had handmade her… It was the last day of primary school, her father was hugging her, Róisín's report card in hand… She was thirteen, pulling back her bed clothes to discover a large red stain seeped into the mattress, the insides of her thighs sticky and sore… She was a year older, flicking through a "lad mag" she had stolen from her cousin, her hand down her trousers… She was up a tree and the boys from down the road were hitting her with branches, laughing at her…

Then it stopped, like she had been flung from an out of control merry-go-round.

"Who gave you the veritaserum?" Snape barked. " _Legilimens!"_

She was in the Great Hall, staring at her Potions OWL exam, terrified that she had forgotten five of the ten uses of knotweed… Her arms were wrapped around a sobbing Anna, whispering that Adonis Greengrass was useless, that there were so many better boys out there... Her mum was shouting at her, a blackened Christmas cake by her side… She was on Eóghan's bed, he was kissing down her stomach… Anna was lying on the floor of the Defence classroom, her body twisted like a rag-doll and just as still… They were in Anna's room, sitting around in their underwear trying on dresses for the party and Róisín eyes were sliding up Ida's long slim legs jealously… She was staring at herself in the mirror, naked, scrutinizing every inch… She was lying in bed, flashes of _that_ night flicking through her head as her hand trailed downwards… Kun was holding her hand, leading her into the huddle of dancers… She was naked, squirming against the tall, cloaked figure pinning her against a wall, time stretching in that way it only could in dreams, the pale face with a hooked nose morphing into an angry caricature of Snape…

The wind was knocked out of her. Snape's office swam into view. There were pieces of wood flung everywhere and his desk was broken in half. Her professor stood to the side, huffing through his nose. Róisín was on her knees.

"Did you mean to cast a blasting curse?" he asked icily.

Her head pounded from his intrusion.

"I don-"

A phoenix patronus swept into the room and the headmaster's voice boomed through its beak,

"Secure the castle, the boy and the sióg. I'll return shortly."

Snape snapped his fingers and the fireplace burst into flames. He flung floo powder from a jar on the mantelpiece and muttered "Godric's chambers". He waited a moment before sticking his head into the fire. "Professor," he grunted, "the headmaster requests that the castle be fortified." He leaned out of the fire and the flames contorted into the face of Professor McGonagall. She wore a hairnet on her head and her eyes squinted without her glasses.

McGonagall! Róisin realised. She should've gone to her!

"What's happened Severus?" the head of Gryffindor asked, alarmed.

"Feral was spiked with veritaserum at a party in Ravenclaw tower this evening. Her secret may have been compromised."

"Where is Miss-"

"I have the girl. The castle bulwarks need to be triggered and they need to be triggered now," he said, his voice growing louder. McGonagall's head nodded and disappeared from the flames. "Phineas!" Snape called. The clever-looking wizard appeared in the frame again, sighing with exasperation,

"Yes?" he asked boredly.

"What of the boy?"

"He's gone to bed."

"Are you watching him?"

"Unfortunately the boy hasn't hung a portrait of my fine person in his room."

"Well find a painting there and get in it," Snape snarled.

"And if the boy notices?"

"He will not notice, because you are going to slip into the painting like a nundu stalking its prey or I will burn every last portrait disgraced by that triangle you call a beard," Snape said savagely. Phineas rolled his eyes and left.

Snape grabbed another handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, this time muttering, "Rowena's chambers".

A moment later, Professor Flitwick's tiny voice came from the flames,

"Professor, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The charms professor sounded pleasant if not a little groggy.

"My apologies, professor, for disturbing you so late at night." Róisín was taken aback by the change in Snape's voice; it was now cool and collected. "My more dutiful students have informed me that some of their seventh year classmates slipped out of the Slytherin common room this evening to attend a party in Ravenclaw tower. A well supplied party. Perhaps you could take care of it?" Flitwick threw his eyes to heaven as if to say, _oh those rascals keeping us up at night!_

"Of course, of course! Thanks for letting me know, good night!" he replied and his flaming head disappeared.

Snape turned to Róisín.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Her wandless spell threw his own wand from his hand. Róisin raised her hands in front of her, as if expecting an impact. Her hands shook and she was still on her knees. Snape's lip twitched upwards menacingly. "No more!" she shouted, "No more of that, of that mind-reading shite-"

"Legilimency," Snape corrected. His wand flew across the room back into his hand.

"My head is sooo sore. Can't you give me a sober up potion and interrogate me? Please."

Snape gripped his wand so tight his knuckles were white, but he kept it at his side.

"A sobering potion will not make you remember what the alcohol prevented your mind from recording in the first place. It may make you forget more of what happened."

Róisín was running her hands over her body, looking for her wand. She stumbled to her feet.

"I don't.. I don't have my wand, but-but if you try to read my mind again I will yell _confringo_ and see what happens," Róisin said, trying to sound bold.

Snape's lips curled.

"Your mind is a mess and I've no intention of inspecting it further. Tell me everything you remember and I might not insist on your expulsion."

Róisín began to describe sneaking in butterbeer, receiving her birthday kisses, drinking, playing goblet guzzlers, fly-tongue and pin the tail on the hippogriff. She couldn't meet his black eyes, which seemed to grow darker with every word she said, instead she spoke to the place where his neck met his collarbones. The top button of his white shirt was undone. Her face was hot.

"After that things get hazy," she admitted. "I remember Kun kinda em… chatting me up and giving me Elvish champagne. Then he inviting me to dance so-"

"Zoltan Kun invited you to dance?" Snape said coldly.

"Yes"

"Why?"

"Em... I think he fancies me, sir."

"I find _that_ unlikely." His words stung. Róisín knew Kun was a handsome and popular Slytherin, but she hadn't thought he was so far out of her league that Snape would comment on it. "Phineas," he called sharply. The pointy wizard reappeared. "What is Kun doing?"

"Crying"

"Is he alone?"

"Yes, he's alone, whimpering in bed. The Slytherins of my day would never-"

"- Keep watch over him," Snape interrupted.

"For how long must I carry out this hopelessly dull task?"

"Until I permit you to stop." Phineas disappeared and Snape addressed Róisin again, "What happened after Kun invited you to dance?"

"Well, we… danced." Her tongue was finding the strength to pick its own words and her sentences were becoming more coherent, which meant the alcohol and veritaserum were wearing off. It should've been a relief, but Snape's comment about Kun still hurt.

"Were you close to him?" he asked. Róisin bit the inside of her cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose."

"Did it make you feel ill?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"Did being close to Kun make you feel unwell like it had with McCormack?"

"No, sir." Snape watched her but didn't reply. "But, em… I wasn't really _with it_ at that point, sir. I don't think my body would've known how to react." She explained how Ida had realised someone had brewed veritaserum and spiked Anna and herself with it, how she had almost choked to death until Ida discovered she was tongue-tied and changed the subject, and how she had flown from Ravenclaw tower to Snape's office. Snape looked unnerved.

"To be clear, Miss Evrard's theory is that someone purposely let a baumidger into Greenhouse seven so it wouldn't look suspicious when plants needed to brew veritaserum went missing."

"Yes, sir."

"And she knows that you've been tongue-tied."

Róisín nodded.

"You will return to Ravenclaw tower and bring Miss Evrard to me," Snape ordered.

"Why? None of this was her fault, the party was _my_ idea."

"I see the veritaserum has worn off," Snape sneered. "It's obvious Miss Bathworth planned that party. You don't have to be concerned, Miss Evrard is not in trouble."

"Why do you want to see her?" Róisín asked again, determined.

"Manners, Feral," Snape said dangerously. "You will do as I tell you."

Róisín didn't reply, she just stood there, her hands clasped in fists. She didn't have a good feeling about bringing Ida down to the dungeons.

The fire chose that moment to burst into green flames, and her head of house's jolly face appeared there. Snape swept towards him, blocking the rest of his office, and Róisín, from view.

"Good morning, professor," Flitwick said, "Just wanted to let you know that I popped into Ravenclaw tower and all of my students were sleeping soundlessly like a poffle of puffskeins. Maybe the Slytherins were playing a trick on you."

"Perhaps, professor. My apologies for wasting your time," Snape said curtly. The green flames disappeared.

 _Well done, Ida,_ Róisín thought. _She must've managed to shoo everyone to bed._

Snape turned and eyed Róisín intently. She looked down to avoid his gaze and realised that she was wearing only one shoe. She shivered, remembering the other being buried by the whomping willow.

"Miss Evrard knows too much," Snape said. "I have to obliviate her."

"That's not fair!" Róisín cried. "None of this is her fault!"

"It's not a punishment, it's to keep you both safe," Snape growled, "Which would be easier if you didn't get bloody wasted."

Róisín blushed but continued to protest,

"We've studied obliviation in charms, you can't do it without damaging her mind, without deleting things peripheral to what you are trying to target-"

"I'm exceptionally proficient at memory charms, Miss Feral, there's no -"

"-I don't CARE how good you are at them, you're going nowhere near Ida's brilliant mind! Without her I'd have died choking to death on the combination of veritaserum and _your_ tongue-tie curse!"

Snape's nostrils flared.

"A few seconds without breath is not a near-death experience, Miss Feral." He watched as a violent shiver ran through Róisín, his face an indifferent mask. When he spoke again he sounded as though he was trying to sound disinterested. "Because you feel so strongly about it, I will not obliviate Miss Evrard. I will speak to her however."

"You can't put the tongue-tie curse on her either, not after she saw what it did to me," Róisín said.

"Miss Evrard is a particularly restrained individual, if she swears to me that she will keep her word then it won't be necessary."

Róisín wanted to argue that she could be "restrained" too, but she swallowed her objection. Instead, her teeth chattered in the silence. Her thin dress had seemed modest when she'd picked it out but now it felt tiny. She discreetly tugged it up where it dipped at the top and tugged it down at her knees. She felt a jab of shame as she realised how drunk she must've been before to not notice the cold of the dungeons.

Snape produced another patronus and stared at it a moment before letting it go.

A large black shadow swept into the room and Róisín yelped, her eyes searching for a sucking hole in the folds of its hood. But it wasn't a dementor, it was a woolen cloak. Snape grabbed it from the air and passed it to her.

"Take it," he snapped. Róisín wrapped the large cloak around herself. She felt like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

"Do you think it was Kun who spiked my drink?" Róisín dared to ask.

"I have reasons to believe so, yes."

"What will you do about it?"

"That is not your concern."

Snape accompanied Róisín back to Ravenclaw tower. He forbid her from telling Ida anything except that she must report to the headmaster's office tomorrow evening. He also ordered Róisín to recount everything she could remember of her interaction with Zoltan Kun.

They were in the west wing of the castle, near Ravenclaw tower, when Róisín remembered a new detail,

"There was a note in his inner pocket, sir. Like a letter or something. I remember noticing it because, well the style of handwriting reminded me of the title on the books, The Lord of the Rings."

Snape halted mid-stride and turned to her,

"Did you catch any of the words on the paper?"

"No, sir."

"Go the rest of the way by yourself, quickly. Send me a patronus when you reach your bedchambers." He pivoted to return the way they had come when Róisín called out,

"But sir, I'm not able to send a patronus!"

"Of course you can't," he said contemptuously and snapped his fingers. There was a clap as a house elf apparated to his side. "Misty, keep the girl safe." Then he strode away from Ravenclaw tower, looking naked without his flowing robes.

* * *

Róisín huddled on her bed swaddled in Snape's cloak. Misty sat at the foot of it cross-legged, watching Róisín with unblinking eyes the size of saucers.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Róisín asked her.

"Yes, Miss, we met before in Master Snape's bedchambers. I changed the burnt sheets," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, of course," Róisín replied and then muttered under her breath, "how could I forget?"

The clock on the wall ticked away ten silent minutes. Róisín's eyelids sagged.

"So, em, what's it like working in Hogwarts," Roisín began, "do you like-"

"-Miss shouldn't feel obligated to make conversation. Miss is very tired, she should sleep," Misty said firmly. Her eyes had not once left Róisín.

Normally, Róisín wouldn't have been able to fall asleep in such vigilant company, but the sky had turned from black to pearly gray and she was too exhausted to think. She didn't bother to undress or climb under her covers; she fell asleep in her thin dress, wrapped in the Head of Slytherin's cloak.

* * *

Professor Snape turned from the Central West Corridor where he had left the sióg in the protection of the house-elf, and began descending towards the dungeons. He was unnaturally silent and quick as he glided through the castle, spurred on by hurrying charms.

He stopped at a seemingly bare patch of dungeon wall and said,

"Prince of Enchanters"

The stones melted away to reveal a passageway. Snape strode through it and into the Slytherin Common Room.

The handful of students still awake despite the hour hushed as he swept passed them. The bravest, Charles Balthazar, muttered a deferential, " _Professor_ " in greeting.

"All of you will be in bed when I return in two minutes," Snape said to the room. He entered another passageway and descended the spiral staircase at its end. He strode down the corridor at the bottom and stopped at the third door. Inside, he could hear a young man mumbling and sniffling.

" _Quietus_ ," Snape mouthed. The mumbling faded and the silence it had unsettled deepened. With a flick of his wand, the door opened soundlessly. The young man curled on his bed only managed to whip his head towards the door before Snape whispered, " _Somnus"._ Zoltan Kun fell asleep instantly. His chest began to inflate and deflate with each breath. Snape closed the door behind him.

There was a note clasped in Kun's fist, crumpled for being held so tight. The few warped words Snape could see were enough to recognise the handwriting. One stroke of the quill would have been enough.

He levitated the paper out of Kun's hand and into the air. He did not touch it, or read it.

" _Homenum Revelio"_

Kun's body glowed white in response to the charm. It was dark in the room, dark enough to notice that the words written on the note also responded to the magic, glittering with a dim, murky gray light. A shiver crawled up Snape's spine.

Other specks of light now dotted the room too. They came from underneath the mattress, the pillow, a satchel on the ground, in between the pages of books on the shelves and in the pockets of clothes strewn around the room. With a sweep of his wand, those sparkling scraps of paper joined the first one hovering in the air. Snape levitated all of them into a drawstring bag and pocketed it.

Next, he lifted the sleeping Kun. The boy was heavy, much heavier than the sióg. Not wishing to disturb the sleeping charm, he refrained from using magic on the boy, and instead cast a strengthening spell on his own body.

"Phineas!" he called in a whisper. The former headmaster was sleeping in the only painting in Kun's bedroom, his head resting on the scaley belly of a snoring common Welsh green. He jolted awake. "Check that the common room is empty," Snape ordered. Phineas disappeared for a moment, then returned and nodded. Snape left the room with Kun still asleep in his arms. He climbed the spiral staircase to the common room, threw a vial of floo powder into the smouldering fireplace and stepped into the cool green flames.


	22. Cursed Ink

**A/N: As always, thank you for the reviews, they keep me writing.**

* * *

Professor Snape stepped out of the flames with Zoltan Kun in his arms. The headmaster's office was quiet, as though all the whirring instruments had gone to sleep. The only sound was a gentle clinking of metal. Snape deposited the sleeping boy on a velvet ottoman.

Dumbledore stood in a far corner of the crowded room, dwarfed by the gothic cabinet beside him and flicking through a bunch of keys. After finding the correct one, he unlocked the tangle of chains enveloping the cabinet. Its tall doors opened to reveal an intricate box in the style of a church tabernacle. With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, the box melted away. Four vials of potions hovered in its place. He took one and turned to Snape.

"You know what this means, Severus, you're losing his trust."

"And how do you suggest I regain it?" Snape replied, his voice tight. "I will not give her to him."

"Did I imply that you should? You, more than most, have learnt from past mistakes." Dumbledore looked over at Kun. The boy's breathing had become fainter, and he looked pale, almost gray, like he'd been carved into his sleeping position.

"This is my fault," Snape said. "I believed the Dark Lord when he told me he'd abandoned this plan. I was naively confident in my position."

"This is not the time to assign blame and indulge in self-loathing," Dumbledore replied. "Three years ago no one recognised the signs in Miss Weasley. This time we both saw them and did nothing." Dumbledore walked towards Snape and asked "Do you know how he did it?"

"With letters." Snape took the drawstring bag from his pocket, opened it, and let its contents tumble onto the headmaster's desk. "I believe the possession grew with their correspondences as it did with Miss Weasley and her enchanted diary." Dumbledore moved closer to peer at the pieces of paper. There were about fifteen in total, some crumpled like discarded drafts of essays and others flattened from being kept in the pages of heavy books.

"Has Voldemort ever spoken of any plans to circumvent the Owl Screen?"

Snape flinched at the Dark Lord's name.

"No, not in my presence."

Dumbledore continued to scrutinize the letters, leaning forward with his hands clasped behind his back, squinting through his half-moon glasses. He looked old and frail. Snape swallowed. He wanted to tell him to stop reading, to be more afraid.

"Shall I wake the boy?" he asked instead. He took Kun's wand from the holder strapped to his forearm.

"Not yet, we need Fawkes," Dumbledore replied. A few minutes later, the windows opened and an unnaturally warm breeze swept into the room, followed by the golden phoenix. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the sleeping boy and erected a shimmering shield around him. "Now you may," he said.

" _Evigilo_ ," Snape stated.

Kun's eyes shot open. His pupils were black slits. For a moment he lay still, then he said in a cold voice that was Kun's and at the same time wasn't,

"You have caught him." He sat up calmly. "No matter, I am but a shadow." Suddenly, his cool expression contorted with fear. He clutched at the wand-holder on his forearm and jumped from the ottoman. The shield knocked him backwards.

"We're not going to harm you, Zoltan," Dumbledore said calmly. "We're going to rid your mind of Tom Riddle."

Dumbledore raised his wand again. The potion vial flew towards Kun. His neck muscles visibly strained as magic forced his head to tilt back. His jaw opened with a jerk and the vial tipped its contents into it.

Kun shook his head violently, his eyes scrunched and his limbs twitching, grunting in pain. The veins around his lips grew black and spread up his face and down his neck, like fast growing vines. Then the black lines stretched down his shirt to his hands clasped in fists. Fawkes screeched in pity and Snape found himself looking away. The words on the letters began to overflow with black ink and run down the pieces of paper, dripping onto the desk. Dumbledore raised a hand to Snape as if to say, not yet.

Kun continued to twist and moan on the ottoman until with a final jolt he fell still, his eyes closed and his jaw slack. Dumbledore dissolved the shield and Fawkes swooped over and landed beside Kun. The bird's tears dripped from his eyes into Kun's mouth and Kun's veins began to fade.

"Do you believe the unicorn tears will have been enough to protect him?" Snape asked.

"I have faith in your calculations, Severus. I think the basilisk venom will have targeted Tom's presence and the tears will have shielded Mister Kun. Along with Fawkes' tears it should've been enough, but only time will tell."

"You were right to prepare the potion."

"It is not you who I don't trust, Severus, it is Tom Riddle."

" _Somnus,"_ Snape muttered and once again Kun fell into a deep sleep, with Fawkes still crying above him.

"We will talk with the boy tomorrow," Dumbledore said. "In the meantime, inform Remus of the situation and ask him to guard Gryffindor tower. Tom may have decided to infest the mind of more than one of my students and we cannot compromise Harry's safety. Minerva has been informed and is maintaining the castle's defences."

"Does the "situation" include Miss Feral?"

"Yes, we require more eyes on her now." Snape's jaw twitched in response but he didn't reply. As he turned to leave Dumbledore added, "I know you do not wish for him to know but-"

"-It's not about me, it's about the safety of the girl and winning this war."

"Do you not trust Remus?"

"It doesn't matter, it's not my decision to make," Snape stated. "Professor," he acknowledged with a nod and left the room.

Snape marched down the hallways towards the north of the castle where Lupin had his chambers. He swirled his wand in front of him and a silver thread spilled out.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. The night with the sióg had helped his silent casting, but apparently the effect had worn off, or his happy memories were fading away. " _Expecto Patronum,"_ he pronounced loudly and a white doe jumped forwards. _The headmaster requires your assistance, I will arrive at your chambers in five minutes to inform you of the situation,_ he mentally told his patronus before it leapt away.

Snape met Lupin halfway up the North Tower, still shrugging into his tattered robes.

"Morning, Severus" Lupin greeted, "What's happened?"

"Zoltan Kun has been possessed by the Dark Lord," Snape answered. "We need you to guard Gryffindor Tower in case he has other plans for tonight." Lupin's face went white, and his voice was a note higher than normal when he asked,

"How did you find out?"

Snape turned and began walking west. Lupin followed.

"He slipped veritaserum into Róisín Feral's drink."

"What? Why would Voldemort be interested in Róisín Feral?"

"Because she's the sióg."

Lupin stopped in his tracks.

"The sióg's in _Hogwarts?_ When was she in the Department of Magic?"

Snape continued walking and Lupin hurried to catch up.

"She did an internship in the bedevilled and blighted magical artifacts department last summer."

"Is she stable? Does she have a partner?"

"She has a partner."

"Who?"

Snape stared straight ahead as he walked.

"Me"

They turned a corner towards Gryffindor tower. For a minute, the only sound was their footsteps as Lupin struggled to reply. Finally he asked,

"How did Voldemort do it?"

"Do not speak that name in my presence," Snape hissed.

"How did he do it?" Lupin pressed.

"I found cursed letters in Mister Kun's room. Their words glowed from a human presence revealing spell. I suspect they hid a shadow of his soul."

Lupin took a moment to digest the information, then he asked,

"Wasn't Kun the one who fought last weekend?"

"Correct. He's had mood swings all year which I mistakenly chalked up to hormones. His fellow Slytherins were mocking him."

"For being gay?" Lupin supplied.

"My house isn't known for its tolerance," Snape conceded. "It's one of the reasons I didn't expel him after last weekend."

"You think it wasn't him fighting, but Vol-, he-who-must-not-be-named?"

"I suspect the Dark Lord's disgust at the boy's sexuality caused him to lash out."

"I heard a boy was injured. How bad was it?"

"Kun threw a crucio."

"He did what!?" Lupin barked. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"There's no need for hysterics," Snape drawled, "The curse didn't land. The safest place for any student, especially a Slytherin, is behind these walls and I'm reluctant to kick any out."

"Where's Kun now?"

"In the headmaster's office. We have dispossessed him of the Dark Lord."

"How?" Lupin asked, surprised.

"With a dispossession potion."

"I didn't know that existed."

"It didn't, until I invented it."

"Ahem!" the Fat Lady interrupted. "Password?"

They had arrived at Gryffindor Tower. Lupin hesitated and glanced at Snape.

"Butterbeer," Snape said to the portrait, then turned to his colleague, "Did you think the only thing preventing me from assaulting your favourite student was the Gryffindor password?"

Lupin sighed.

"Of course not, Severus, I'm just on-edge."

Snape whipped his wand like a lasso, casting a wide-ranging _muffilato._

"Only myself, the headmaster and Professor McGonagall know about the sióg," Snape said gravely. "The rest of the Order cannot know. The Dark Lord would torture every last one of us to find her. After Potter, she is our biggest liability. If He _does_ find her, he will kill me, but not before I kill you. Understood?"

"Some of the Order don't believe you're fully on our side," Lupin replied. "I do. However when you threaten my life I see where they're coming from." Snape sneered and turned to leave. "I won't tell the rest of the Order," Lupin said to his back. The potions professor descended the spiral staircase they had come from. Lupin rubbed his hand against his scarred face and took out his wand.

* * *

Deep in the Department of Mysteries, a former unspeakable watched as the quill stopped scratching a piece of parchment, and a few drops of black ink leaked from its nib.


	23. Benjamin Bethel

It was mid morning but it felt much earlier as the December sun had only begun to rise. Madam Pomfrey sat in the hospital wing and watched Zoltan Kun sleep. She knew Kun was a fully grown man, towering above her at six foot, but when he slept he looked very young, with his long dark lashes resting softly against his cheeks.

Professor Dumbledore had brought the sleeping boy to her in the very early morning. He had not told her what had happened to him, saying it was safer for her not to know, but the matron knew he had been touched by dark magic. After all these years she could smell dark magic like a dog smells fear.

"What did you get yourself mixed up in child?" she asked herself.

A week ago the Hospital wing had been full of snoring Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch players when Professor Snape had stepped out of the fireplace with Benjamin Bethel, another Slytherin, in his arms. Every one of Mister Bethel's ribs had been broken by a _ruptumfrusta_ curse, cast by the boy now sleeping in front of her. Madam Pomfrey would not soon forget the sound of Bethel's desperate, ragged breaths as she rushed to mend all twenty-four bones. Today her only patient was Mister Kun and the wing was silent.

Kun's eyes fluttered and he turned onto his side. Madam Pomfrey traced a spiral with her wand and pronounced clearly, " _Expecto Patronum."_ A trail of light fell from her wand tip. The matron sighed, closed her eyes, and tried again, " _Expecto Patronum!"_ This time a silver robin flew into form. "I think he will wake soon," she said to the bird and it fluttered away.

Fifteen minutes later, Professor Dumbledore swept into the Hospital Wing followed by Professor Snape.

"Thank you for watching over him Poppy," Dumbledore said. "If we could have some time alone with the boy." Madam Pomfrey inclined her head and retreated to her office.

* * *

Róisín woke with a grinding headache. She blinked rapidly to soothe her dry eyes.

Something was at the foot of her bed.

She sat up with a jolt. Misty the house elf was staring at her.

"Good Morning, Miss Feral," Misty said. "Master Snape has told me to inform you that your arrangement with him is over."

"Sorry?" Róisín rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It felt like the morning sun had pulled the pin on a grenade in her brain.

"Your arrangement with Master Snape is over. You are to pack your bags and will be sent to a safe house by the end of the day."

"I don't understand," Róisín grumbled, her face puffy with sleep and her eyes scrunched against the sunlight. "I have to leave Hogwarts?" Misty nodded. "I can't do my NEWTS?" The house elf shook her head. Róisín let herself fall back onto the bed. "Fuuuuuuuck!" she groaned. "Fuck, fuck fuck!"

"May I return the professor's cloak?" Misty asked.

Róisín ripped the cloak off herself, sucking through her teeth as the woolen fabric scratched against the grazes on her skin. She handed it to the house-elf. Ugly yellow and purple bruises had blossomed on Róisín's arms and legs. Her stomach lurched as memories of last night jumped to her attention; her flight from the tower, Snape's hands on her as he healed her, Snape penetrating her mind, Snape's alarm at discovering Kun's interest in her…

With a jarring crack! Misty disapparated from Róisín's bedroom.

Róisín bit her fist and rocked on her bed. "Oh my god, oh my god…" she repeated. Tears dripped from her face onto her thighs, sinking through the thin fabric of her dress.

* * *

Zoltan knew he should wake up, the new day was so close he could hear it, but he felt so deliciously warm and snuggly that he chose to sleep a bit more.

Then someone called his name. He shook his heavy head against the sound. They called again. And again. Zoltan opened his eyes.

A long, crooked nose was staring down at him. He tried to recoil but his body was numb and slow.

"There's no need to be afraid, Zoltan," Dumbledore said. "You're safe here."

He was in the Hospital Wing. Where he had sent Benjamin last week. The black shape behind Dumbledore came into focus and Zoltan recognised Professor Snape. Zoltan opened his mouth to speak but his voice had no body.

"It's ok, he's gone," Dumbledore said softly. Zoltan took a deep breath. It was true, he could no longer feel him.

* * *

At the beginning, Zoltan thought Benjamin Bethel looked at him that way because he was jealous. Benjamin was quiet. Too quiet. His mother was a muggle and he didn't know the right people, not the way Zoltan did. As a first year in Slytherin, it was clear that knowing the right kind of people was important.

Benjamin was only a year behind Zoltan in Hogwarts, but on his first day, when the sorting hat was dropped over his strawberry-blond hair and freckled face with soft, round features like a puppy, he looked a lot younger than Zoltan, whose jet-black hair and emerging jawline were already turning the girls' heads. Zoltan ignored Benjamin for three years as he effortlessly became one of the coolest boys in Slytherin and then in the whole school.

Zoltan was in fifth year and Benjamin was in fourth when Zoltan noticed him again. Zoltan and his crew walked into the Slytherin common room to find Benjamin and his friend practicing disarming charms. Benjamin's attempt at _expelliarmus_ flung his own wand from his hand and Zoltan and the other fifth years started crying with laughter. Benjamin looked so crestfallen that Zoltan offered to help him practice. He learnt quickly and the two boys ended up dueling together a couple of nights a week, Zoltan learning from Benjamin just as much as the other way around.

Then Zoltan started to notice the lads sniggering behind his back. Graham Montague began calling Benjamin Zoltan's "little halfsy" because of Benjamin's muggle mother. Zoltan would retort, "And who do you think you are, a twenty-eighter?" which would shut Graham up for a day or so. Zoltan didn't care about Benjamin's mother. He wouldn't have cared if Benjamin himself were a muggle, he was falling so "dancing with the mooncalves" in love with him.

Benjamin and Zoltan kissed for the first time in the Astronomy Tower, where they had gone to watch the shooting stars. That night, hours and hours past curfew, Zoltan found himself crying with laughter as he listened to Benjamin's crazy plan to find the centaurs of the forbidden forest and ask their advice on his divination project. The following week the two boys went back to the Tower every night until they both began to fall asleep in their classes.

Then they were caught. Zoltan and Benjamin were sparring in an unused dungeon classroom when Benjamin's wandless spell was finally strong enough to knock Zoltan to his knees. Benjamin, unable to contain the huge smile on his face, rushed over to help Zoltan to his feet and Zoltan kissed him square on the mouth, both boys still panting and covered in perspiration. Pansy Parkinson, curious about the noise in the normally quiet dungeons, opened the door on the entangled couple.

Rumours spread then, not only through Slytherin but the whole of Hogwarts like their kiss had infected the water. That summer, Zoltan's uncle made a snide comment about Zoltan's _inclinations_ at a family dinner. In his sixth year Zoltan ignored Benjamin again.

This year, Slytherin house was swarming with couples. Straight couples. They were holding hands in Hogsmeade, snuggling in front of the common room fireplace, and sneaking into each other's rooms for "study" sessions. One weekend when the rest of final year were kissing over steaming cups in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, Zoltan asked Benjamin to practice dueling with him again. That was when the letters started to appear.

Now Zoltan was in the hospital wing, with Professor Dumbledore peering down his half-moon glasses at him. Zoltan didn't like the headmaster, he knew he was prejudiced against his house, but if the rumours about Dumbledore's own preferences were true, then he might understand how Zoltan felt. So when the headmaster asked him to explain what had happened, Zoltan, exhausted to his very bones and feeling as though he had nothing left to lose, decided to forgo the infamous deceit of his house and simply tell him the truth.

"The first letter came the day Professor Snape caught Feral looking at me in class," Zoltan began and glanced at his head of house, who was standing behind Dumbledore like his stretched shadow. "Later that day Buckley told the whole common room and Balthazar shouted out, "Sure, Zoltan'd have no interest in _her._ " At first I thought he meant because she's a mud- a muggleborn, but then he added, "Now, if she had a _brother…_ " And it was like the world was spinning. I stormed away without even attempting a come-back. Sofia Nott came and found me. She said there was nothing so disgustingly common and muggle as homophobia and that I should pay no attention to their stupid jokes. That night, there was a letter on my bed with my name on it."

"Who was it from?" Dumbledore asked.

"He never told me his name, but I know he was a student at Hogwarts a thousand years ago, and a Slytherin like me. He's a ghost. It's weird because even after-" _How could he put it?_ "After... all that's happened, I still don't know his name."

"What happened to him?"

Zoltan sat up higher against the pillows behind him, wincing at how stiff his muscles felt. Then he told them the ghost's story. The one he'd promised not to tell.

"In final year, he and another boy in his class fell in love with each other. The other students found out and bullied them relentlessly. They spiked the couple's drinks with a strong lust potion, but the two boys had taken a hate potion earlier that day in an attempt to fall out of love, and the combination formed a deadly poison. While they died on the floor of the Slytherin common room not one of the other students ran to fetch a bezoar. The ghost stayed behind in the land of the living, terrified that death would separate him from the boy he loved, but the other boy chose to pass on.

"He told me all about his life at Hogwarts, about the ancient magic they used to study, about Merlin, how he used to sneak around with his… with the boy he loved. And I told him all about… about me and Benjamin." Kun glanced at his Head of House, suspecting he already knew about his "secret" relationship. His expression gave nothing away. Dumbledore nodded to imply he understood.

"I started finding more letters," Kun continued. "On the desk beside me at the library, or inside my bag, or on a random window ledge, but I never saw the ghost.

"I wrote back too. At first he was so understanding about how I felt, and it was cool to talk to someone who really understood, but then… he started to get weird."

Zoltan had been talking mainly to the bed sheets, but he stopped to look up at his professors. It was clear that they were listening intently.

He didn't know how to tell them the rest. How could he explain how the last few months had been? He tried to scooch up higher against the pillows but his body ached in protest. He was relieved to see Madam Pomfrey marching from her office towards them, carrying a tray with what looked like steaming soup.

"My apologies for interrupting," she said loudly, "Mister Kun needs to eat and rest. I suggest, professors, that you return to continue your discussion later." The "suggestion" was clearly a command. The headmaster smiled as though used to being told off by the matron. Both professors left and Zoltan managed to eat just one spoonful of his carrot soup before he fell back into a deep sleep.


	24. Honeydukes' Chocolate Wands

After Misty left, Róisín sobbed for hours in her room. She had to leave Hogwarts without her NEWTS. She'd have to get a muggle job, but she had no secondary level muggle education. She was straddling both the magical and non-magical world but didn't have a place in either. She pictured her parents' disappointed faces for the hundredth time and let a fresh bout of tears shake her. As she cried, she spun more layers onto her cocoon of silencing charms.

At four o'clock, Róisín's stomach gurgled. She'd missed lunch and breakfast and dinner was still two hours away. She could go to the kitchens and ask the elves for food but she was reluctant to leave her room. She didn't want to face everyone beyond it.

What did Anna think about her disappearance last night? What did Eóghan think of her chatting and dancing to Kun, after she'd told him she couldn't be with anyone because she was "cursed" by a dodgy book? What was up with Kun? Was he definitely the one who gave her the _veritaserum_? If so, why? Did he know what she was? Was Snape still furious at her after her drunken antics? Did the four houses have a point left between them after the shenanigans of the party?

Róisín got up and searched under her bed. She pulled out a box of chocolate wands Ida had bought her in Honeydukes for her birthday and unwrapped a "four inch hazel wand with unicorn hair". The wand was hazelnut chocolate with a strand of candy floss in the middle, her favourite flavour. She snapped off the top and started chomping. Her nose was so blocked from crying that she had to breathe through her mouth as she ate and she barely tasted the creamy goodness. She finished the wand, but still felt hungry and sad. She ate another, "six inch mahogany with erumpent horn" (milk chocolate with nougat filling), then another, "five inch chestnut with veela hair" (chestnut chocolate with caramel centre) and then another, "four and a half inch birch with dragon heartstring" (white chocolate with sour gummy centre). She even ate the last and her least favourite of the selection, "eight inch hawthorn with thestral hair" (bitter dark chocolate with chewy liquorice centre), chewing the wand like it were a chore while her throat twitched with nausea.

She gathered the colourful foil wrappers scattered around the bed, scrunched them up and threw them towards her waste-paper bin. They separated in the air and fell slowly, sprinkling the ground. She groaned. The chocolates swirled in her stomach and her head pounded. She wished she'd gone down to the kitchens to find decent food. Why did she have to eat the whole box?

She got on the floor, pulled out her trunk from under her bed, and started to pack the clothes and textbooks strewn around. When she came across "Advanced Potion Making", a surge of frustration gripped her and she flung it across the room. It slammed against a poster of the "Weird Sisters" who shrieked and dropped their guitars with a clang. She was so stupid. All she had to do was not attract attention. Why did she have to agree to a feckin' party? Why did she have to drink so much?

She sprung to her feet and ran to her bathroom, flinging her head into the toilet bowl just in time as her chocolate breakfast spewed past her lips. She slumped onto the cold tiles, wrapped her arms around her knees and shivered. She felt disgusting. She thought about how excited she was when Eóghan had kissed her on the Quidditch pitch months ago, when her only worry was not getting straight Outstandings in her NEWTS, and began to cry again, her swollen tear ducts itching from overuse. She pounded the ground with her fist, mentally screaming at herself for fucking everything up and jumped when water began to gush from the shower and sink taps, as if her magic wanted everything to cry for her.

For a moment, she simply watched as the water pooled on the tiles. Then she scrambled to her feet, accio'd her wand and shouted,

" _Glacius!"_

Her wand tip coughed out a puff of blue smoke. Róisín shook it impatiently. What were the wand movements for the freezing spell? A jab and flick? Up and down like jagged icicles?

" _Glacius! Glacius! Glacius!"_ she repeated but the water kept flowing, wetting her socks and creeping into her bedroom. " _Stupefy!"_ She slashed her wand down and the streams of water stilled in mid-air. " _Evanesco!"_ The pool of water vanished.

She felt like a magical toddler again, making random things float and pop as her parents scrambled to grab them. Now, at nineteen, she was supposed to be in control of her magic. Snape had told her to return to him when "her symptoms" returned, but did that instruction still apply after he had told her she had to leave Hogwarts?

Róisín stripped off and got into the shower, turning the water to cold to cool the bubbling nausea inside her.

It was getting late and no one had come to take her to a "safe house". Should she stay and attend her classes tomorrow as normal? Or would Snape think she was purposely ignoring his orders?

Róisín stayed in the cold shower until her toes had gone white and numb and her nipples were hard like buttons. She decided that she would wait until seven o'clock and if nothing had happened since then she would go and ask Snape herself.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, Zoltan was woken again by the arrival of Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. For a moment, he feigned sleep in the hope that they would leave him alone, but they simply stood by his bed waiting to be acknowledged.

After a glass of water for his dry throat, Zoltan continued his story,

"The ghost's first letter was only a paragraph long but they got longer and longer. We wrote pages and pages, front and back. Reading them made me feel - they were like a drug. I finally had someone who understood, someone no one knew about, but -" Zoltan hesitated. "- But then he started saying horrible things; that he and the other boy had had it coming, that it was wrong what they were doing and they should've known it'd lead to trouble, that if he hadn't been such a coward and moved on he wouldn't be stuck drifting around Hogwarts for the rest of eternity. He said if only-" Zoltan swallowed, staring at the bedsheets, "If only he could've wanted girls like the other guys than everything would've been different. I tried to argue with him that it wasn't his fault, that it isn't our choice, but then he stopped replying. I felt so lost. I read and re-read the letters I had kept until finally he left a new one. I didn't argue with him from then on."

Zoltan had thought he wouldn't be able to talk about it, but the words were spilling out as if he'd been waiting months to say them.

"I started to have strange thoughts. Thoughts that didn't sound like my own. I chatted up girls, suddenly fascinated with them. Especially the powerful ones. Kiserian, Nott, even Gryffindors like Johnson." Zoltan's brow creased with confusion. "I felt this… _disgust_ for mudbloods. I'd never cared before about blood status, not really, but now I didn't want them anywhere near me. Then Feral almost killed her friend in Defence and I felt curious despite her blood. I had this feeling that she could be _the one."_

"The one?" Snape asked.

Zoltan shrugged. "I don't know. I was attracted to her power, but I knew I wasn't in to girls. I wrote about it in my letters, how I didn't feel like myself, chasing after girls. He said it was a good thing, that it would solve all my problems, that if I had a girlfriend my parents wouldn't make comments about how my _teenage impulses better not get in the way of the Kun lineage,_ " Zoltan mimicked in his parents' bitter tone. "I found myself watching the girls around me like they were, I dunno, _tools._ Something to figure out and use. I spotted Feral reading in the library one day, and I- well _he -_ was so… intrigued by what she was reading and I don't even know why…"

"What was she was reading?" Snape asked.

"Em… something about Magical Beings?"

Snape's upper lip twitched. Zoltan hesitated, but Snape said nothing so he continued,

"One day in Arithmancy, Professor Vector did the Dubois transform and got a weird result. Then she looked directly at me, as though the numbers were pointing at me, revealing _my_ importance. I just knew it was because of my connection to the ghost. And I knew he wasn't surprised at all, he was quite smug actually." Zoltan winced. "Then things got really weird."

His next words came rushing out as though the quicker he said them the less they would hurt.

"I started confusing his letters with mine as though I'd written them both, and I had this horrible feeling that maybe it had been me writing his letters all along. I woke up in the Psychological Plants section of the library with no idea what I'd been doing there - I don't even take Herbology. I found jobberknoll feathers in my room and ghost mantis legs in my satchel. I would forget what I'd been doing the day before and then realise whole chunks of my day were missing. One night I found myself at the edge of the forest, with," Zoltan swallowed and rubbed at the tears on his face. "-With a knife." He searched his professor's expressions but they didn't look alarmed, just somber. He continued in a tight voice, "I kept finding letters in my room, but they were also in my head, like new ones just wrote themselves into my thoughts. I realised he was becoming a part of me. I tried to fight him but he said it was only fair, that he hadn't lived in so long, that he wanted a second chance-" Zoltan exhaled a long, shuddering breath.

"It's alright Zoltan," Dumbledore said. "He can't control you anymore. We've expelled him from you. We strongly suspect that the ghost lied to you about his lover and that his intention from the beginning was to possess you."

"Why would he want to possess me?" Zoltan asked.

"To seduce one of your female peers," Snape said.

Zoltan's stomach lurched.

"What if he finds me again? Or tries to possess someone else?" he asked.

"He's been expelled from the castle," Snape stated. "It's unlikely he will return."

"Can you explain what happened with Mister Bethel?" Dumbledore asked.

Zoltan felt the colour drain from him. He glanced nervously at his Head of House, remembering the deluge of vicious censure he'd received from him after he'd hurt Benjamin, the many hours he'd spent with gloveless hands inside jars filled with slimy or stingy things and the looks from his fellow Slytherins as they whispered that he was the one who'd lost them three hundred points.

"I -," Zoltan twisted the sheets in his hands, "After the Quidditch match, Benjamin found me and said he'd like us to be like the way we were before- before everyone found out. He said people would get over it in a few days if we just "came out". I didn't realise it at the time, but at that point _he_ was already in my head. He was furious at Benjamin and so was I. Or maybe I wasn't, I don't know. Then... Benjamin did this thing we used to do." Zoltan went red. "It was this silly joke we had where he'd hold my little finger instead of my hand, because well, we joked we weren't really gay if he didn't hold my hand properly." Zoltan went redder. "Anyway it was stupid but he reached out and took my little finger and I missed him so much. But then -" Zoltan shook his head. "Then I was overcome with anger and I flung my hand away and cursed him." Zoltan rubbed his hand against his nose and found his face slimy with tears and runny snot. "His shield deflected the _crucio_ but the _rumptumfrusta_ was too strong."

Dumbledore handed Zoltan a handkerchief. Zoltan felt a jab of shame.

"One hundred points to Slytherin for your honesty," Dumbledore said.

Zoltan gave a small nod. He didn't care about house points. The House Cup wouldn't erase the image of Benjamin's broken body. He didn't even know if anyone had bothered to visit Benjamin in the Hospital Wing. How long had Benjamin stayed here? Had Zoltan seen him after that night? Now that he thought about it, he realised he didn't remember anything from last week. He knew the ghost had planned on going to Feral's party on Saturday, but nothing else. Had Saturday come and gone? Had he gone to the party? Zoltan looked around for something that would tell him what day it was.

"Can you tell me what happened last week?" he asked.

"It would be best not to dwell on the time you lost," Dumbledore said. "Simply put, the ghost used your corporeal form to brew a potion that would entice a fellow student to go to bed with him, which he slipped to Miss Feral at her party. He was unsuccessful, as Miss Feral suspected she had been drugged and found help before it came into full effect. Professor Snape recognised this was not in character for you and we came to the conclusion you were under some kind of curse. We discovered you were possessed and rid you from the ghost."

"What does Feral know?" Zoltan asked.

"She's been obliviated," Snape answered. "She believes she had too much to drink and that is why she doesn't remember the events of the night."

"You must not tell anyone about what has happened," Dumbledore said sternly. Zoltan opened his mouth to protest but the Headmaster's expression warned it was not debatable. Zoltan clamped his jaw against the feeling welling in his chest. "If you receive any letters like you did previously, you must inform Professor Snape immediately," Dumbledore added.

"Yes sir."

"Madam Pomfrey has decided you are to spend another night here and then you'll be free to continue with your studies." Dumbledore rose and gave Zoltan a pat on his shoulder. Then he and Professor Snape left the Hospital Wing.

Zoltan held his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

It was seven o'clock. Róisín told herself there was no point going to talk to Snape until she had finished packing, and then at half past seven she decided to clean her room before she left. Afterwards, in a room so tidy it felt foreign, she finished her essay on supermassive black holes for astronomy, just in case she did have to go to class tomorrow and practiced her _draconifors_ spell for transfiguration, turning her sock into a tiny furry dragon and back again in between casting _aguamenti_ to put out its little flames. After thirty minutes it still had no scales and looked more like a winged ferret than a mini horntail. When her clock chimed for nine o'clock Róisín knew she had run out of excuses. She straightened her clothes, took a deep breath, and slipped out of her room to go to Snape's office.

She immediately bumped into Anna.

"Oh, hi," Róisín said, surprised. Anna was closing Ida's bedroom door behind her.

"Are you feeling any better?" Anna asked.

"Ye-yes."

"Ida told me you weren't feeling well last night so you went to bed early. She said it'd be best if we left you to sleep."

 _Ida!_ Róisín had forgotten to tell her to go to the headmaster's office! Her face must've shown her dismay because Anna asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, sorry, still not feeling so well."

"I'm sorry Róisín, maybe the party wasn't such a good idea, I shouldn't have pressured you to have it and I should've watched over you more, especially as these things are harder for you."

"What do you mean, harder for me?" Róisín's asked, an edge to her voice.

"Well, you're a muggleborn, you're not as familiar with this world-"

"I'm a witch too, just like you. This _is_ my world." There was a weird tension in Róisín's throat.

"Of course, I didn't mean it like that, Róisín," Anna said, sounding hurt.

"Sorry, I'm just.. cranky and hungover." Róisín made an effort to sound less snarky when she asked, "You were talking to Ida?"

"Yeah, she had to go see Binns today about some History of Magic essay and she seemed a bit off when she came back. She said she'd drank too much last night and that she didn't remember the end of the party. Weird right? I didn't see her drinking at all and she was acting like her usual responsible self, getting everyone to cast a cleaning charm before herding them off to bed. At the time I was kinda annoyed 'cause I was having fun, but maybe at that stage things were getting out of control." A pretty pink painted Anna's cheeks and she added,"I was so off my face, I told Weasley straight-up that I liked him, and I told Nott-"

"- I haven't eaten all day Anna," Róisín cut in. "I'm going to nip down to the kitchens. Can we discuss the party later?"

Anna hesitated and then replied,

"Yeah of course Róisín, I just wanted- You do know Zoltan Kun's gay, right?"

Róisín felt like Anna had slapped her.

 _Of course he is,_ she thought.

"Ye-eah, I know," Róisín said defensively. "He's just a friend, I'm cool enough to have Slytherin friends you know," she added, trying to be witty. Anna didn't laugh.

"Do you still like Eóghan?"

"Yeah I do, it's just- it's complicated," Róisín muttered, "Anyway I better go, I'm starving."

Róisín hurried down the dungeon steps, her mind whirling with what Anna had said. Kun didn't fancy her. He'd just got close to her to slip her veritaserum. Did he know she was a sióg? Or just suspect it? And if he was gay, did he still want to sleep with her for her "sióg" power?

And what did Ida know? Róisín figured it was Dumbledore she'd gone to see, not Professor Binns. But what had the headmaster told her? Did she know Róisín was a sióg?

At least Anna didn't seem suspicious about Róisín's disappearance last night. Normally they spent their weekends chatting for hours about everything under the sun, but Róisín hadn't seen her all day, and then she'd blown her off. Everytime Róisín lied to Anna she stepped away from their friendship and Róisín was starting to realise that it would get harder and harder to find her way back.

A drop of moisture fell from the dungeon ceiling onto Róisín's face. Disgusted, she hastily rubbed at it. Shapes flickered in the cracks and corners of the dungeon halls in the shadows of the torches. She looked behind her nervously and scurried down Snape's corridor. The door to his office opened and she paused in her tracks, expecting to see a talk, cloaked figure step out. Instead, Harry Potter stormed from the room. He looked up, scowling from beneath his mop of messy black hair and glanced between Róisín and Snape's closed door. Róisín felt weirdly star-struck; she'd never spoken to the Boy Who Lived.

"Hi Harry," she said.

"Feral, what are you doing here?" Potter asked, his tone accusing.

"I just have to ask Professor Snape something," she said, a beat too late. "You?"

"Remedial potions," he said through gritted teeth and walked past her. Róisín wanted to ask how he knew her name but he had already turned the corner, his angry footsteps fading away. She eyed Snape's door warily. A bunch of nerves in Róisín's chest begged her to leave; if anything guaranteed that Snape would be in a foul mood it was extra potions with Harry Potter. She turned and began to hurry back.

"Feral," a smooth voice called out.

Róisín held her breath and turned back around. Professor Snape was standing next to his open door, an eyebrow raised. He gestured inside. Róisín released her breath and entered his office, her feet reluctant and heavy.

Snape shut the door and returned to his desk. Róisín stood with her hands clasped at her waist, squeezed together to stop them wriggling. Snape had dark shadows under his eyes.

"I'd strip Ravenclaw house of all its points for your behaviour last night," Snape began in a low, dangerous voice, "if it weren't decidedly creepy given the circumstances."

Róisín's fingers laced and unlaced in front of her. She had spoken back to Snape numerous times, shouted at him, sobbed in front of him, lit his bed on fire and pounded on his door drunk in the middle of the night, but he hadn't taken any points from her. It hadn't made any sense. But now she understood; Snape didn't want to assert his authority over her now that he had to sleep with her. The thought gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"I'm sorry sir," Róisín said. "It won't happen ag-"

"-Do you want the Dark Lord to find you?" Snape hissed.

"No, of course not! I-"

"Performing wandless magic all over the castle, fraternising with every boy in school, drinking anything thrust into your hands." Snape stood from his chair and leaned towards her. "Openly researching sióga in the main library. These are not the actions of someone who is concerned with being discovered. You might find me unpleasant, but I am _nothing_ compared to _Him_." Róisín took an instinctive step backwards. She noticed he was wearing his robe again, the one she had slept in. She looked up and met his angry eyes.

"I know, sir, of course you aren't." Snape gave a sharp shake of his head, as if denying she knew anything. He sat back down while running a hand through his greasy black hair, his nails digging into his scalp."Sir, when will I be leaving for the safe house?" she asked cautiously.

"You aren't leaving," Snape snapped.

"Oh, it's just Misty said you told her I would…" Her voice trailed away at the look in his eyes. She had the sudden urge to bite her nail and instead digged it into her palm. "Em… why amn't I, sir?"

"Because unfortunately not everything is under my control."

The fuzziness inside Róisín turned cold. So Snape wanted to get rid of her and Dumbledore had insisted she stay. He was the only man who'd ever slept with her and he didn't want to do it again. She knew she shouldn't want her cruel potions professor to want to have sex with her, but she did. Even though she didn't know if _she_ wanted to have sex with him.

Róisín could feel her lips tugging downwards and her eyes swelling. She was about to ask could she be excused when Snape asked sharply,

"Did you want to leave Hogwarts?

"No," Róisín said, confused, "of course not."

A stool levitated across the room and landed in front of his desk.

"Sit down," he ordered. Róisín sat. Snape clasped his hands in front of him and stared directly into her eyes.

"Do you feel unsafe at Hogwarts?" He didn't give her a chance to answer before he asked, "Are you afraid of Mister Kun? Has something significant happened of which I am unaware?"

"Sir, I-" Róisín tried to respond but Snape held up his finger to shush her. His gaze jumped from one eye to the other, searching. He looked dissatisfied.

"Why are you upset?" he asked firmly. _You don't want me,_ she thought a moment before the horrible realisation dawned on her that he was reading her mind. She clamped her eyes shut, knowing it was too late. There was a pause. Then Snape said coolly, "You're insulted."

Róisín opened her eyes but kept them fixed on her lap. She knew that Wampus cats had to maintain eye contact to perform legilimency, maybe it was the same with wizards?

"I- I just want to stay at Hogwarts and finish my studies. I'm scared I'll be kicked out and my wand will be taken because of what I am."

"We both know you'd survive without your wand, Miss Feral." Róisín bit her lip. Was that a compliment? "But we won't take it from you, a wandless witch still displaying powerful if erratic magic would not go undetected. However, I think you should leave the castle until we find you a more suitable partner."

"Please sir, I don't want to leave. This is my home."

Snape's jaw twitched.

"I saw your nightmare," he said stiffly. Róisín shifted in her seat, wary of his change of tone.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"You're afraid of me."

Róisín hesitated,

"I-I'm sorry sir, I still don't understand."

His voice was clipped when he answered,

"When I entered your mind last night I saw the nightmare you had of me."

"What night-" Then flashes hit her; swirling patterns, a man draped in black, being frozen, being touched… She shook her head against the memories she hadn't known she had. "I've nightmares all the time sir, and that was ages ago, before we…" She paused but he didn't reply, he just continued watching her, his jaw tight. "Please don't make me leave because of that sir, that was nothing, I have weird dreams all the time, I'm sorry I had it."

Snape's voice was venomous when he replied,

"This arrangement was ludicrous to begin with. I refuse to violate you any further."

"The only time I felt violated was when you read my mind last night!" Róisín insisted, her voice becoming whingy. "I'm so confused, _of course_ I'm intimidated by you, you're the scariest teacher in the castle, I thought you _wanted_ your students to be afraid of you."

"My _students_ , not my -" Evidently Snape didn't know what word to describe her with so he just scowled at her and asked sardonically, "While we're on this unfortunate topic, how is your magic? Stable as always?"

"Y-yes sir," Róisín replied.

He raised an eyebrow and said,

"Cast _lumos_."

Róisín, relieved that she had remembered her wand, but terrified that her magic wouldn't behave, took her wand and cast,

" _Lumos"_

Instead of a steady, white light, bright, ruby sparks showered from her wand tip and Róisín quickly muttered, " _Nox"_.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and said,

"You have two options, you can come to my chambers tomorrow night, or you can go to a safe house until we find another solution."

Róisín hesitated. She thought her lungs would burst from nerves but she managed to ask,

"Can I stay at Hogwarts if I go to you tomorrow?"

Snape leaned back in his chair, considering, his face now its usual mask of boredom and contempt.

"Yes," he replied curtly.

"Ok, so… em, I'll do that then?"

Snape stood and went to his fireplace. He picked up a pot of floo powder and tipped some of its contents into an empty vial. He handed it to Róisín.

"It will look suspicious if you are seen wandering the dungeons late at night. Find a fireplace in a deserted corner of Ravenclaw tower and floo to my chambers, the address is "Salazar's chambers". I'll open my floo from ten pm tomorrow evening."

"Ok, thank you sir."

Snape flicked his finger and his heavy office door creaked open. Róisín got up to leave, a smile tugging her lips. She could stay at Hogwarts!

Then she remembered,

"Sir, do you know why Kun gave me the veritaserum? Does he know-"

"-I do not."

Snape was most likely lying, but Róisín wasn't in a position to confront him on it. Instead she asked,

"What did the headmaster tell Ida about what happened?"

"I obliviated Miss Evrard," Snape answered. "She remembers nothing of the veritaserum or your flight from Ravenclaw tower. She believes she doesn't remember the end of the night because she was too intoxicated and that you retired early for the same reason."

Róisín felt like he'd punched her in the gut.

"But you told me you wouldn't obliviate her!" she cried.

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Good night, Miss Feral," he said, his tone warning her not to push him further.

Róisín gritted her teeth and left. The door slammed shut behind her.

* * *

 **A/N: I apologise for the delay. I lost an immediate family member to a very sudden illness and moved back home to be with my remaining family. Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading. I really appreciate it.**


	25. The Intruder

"The Prince of Enchanters' Wonderful Creations: The inventions of the greatest wizard of all time" was such a huge book that Róisín had to use a levitation charm to dislodge it from its shelf. She found a free space at the long bench in the centre isle of the library, opened it in front of her and stacked smaller books beside it to hold its heavy front cover, as though she were building a fort to hide behind. On top of her parchment she wrote "The Rune of Merlin" and began outlining her essay. It was said the famous wizard marked his possessions with his rune to imbue them with powers. The topic was fascinating. So much so that for a while Róisín forgot she had to go to Snape that night. She finished a paragraph on Merlin's surviving artefacts, including a cloak which was rumoured to be used in the secret welcoming ceremony of the Uagadou School of Magic and a quill that was said to be stored in the Department of Mysteries, when someone "psst" in her direction. She looked up to see Eóghan sitting across from her.

"Hey, ye weren't at dinner, what's up?'' he asked.

Róisín shrugged and said,

"Just wasn't that hungry."

"D'ye hear aboot Rookwood?" Eóghan asked, his tone uncharacteristically grim.

"Who?"

"Augustus Rookwood, the death eater?"

"Oh, yeah, isn't he in Azkaban?"

"Apparently no anymore."

" _What_?" Róisín asked in a sharp whisper, eliciting an angry " _Ssh!"_ from Madam Pince.

"Ye know Richard's mum works at the Ministry?" Eóghan continued in a low voice. Róisín nodded and leaned closer. "She heard a rumour that Rookwood escaped Azkaban, and just like Sirius Black two years ago, they dinnae ken how he did it."

"Oh God," Róisín exclaimed, "D'ye think Black helped him?"

"Ah dunno, but it's scary. Ah thought I should find ye and tell ye, Ah know this stuff is more frightening for us than the others."

 _For us_ _mudbloods,_ Róisín thought. "Thanks Eóghan, it's good to know."

"Ah was meaning to ask ye before, how's yer grandad?"

Róisín hesitated. Then she remembered she'd pretended her grandfather was sick after she'd told Eóghan they couldn't see each other anymore.

"Oh, he's a lot better," she said while thinking, _I am a terrible person_.

"Delighted tae hear it."

The December chill had invaded the castle, but Eóghan was wearing only a thin shirt with the top button undone. Róisín could see where his shoulder muscles met his collarbone. "Did they figure out how to cure that curse?" he asked.

Róisín picked up her quill as if eager to get back to writing. "Em, Pomfrey's working on it," she whispered. Eóghan's heavy brow crumpled a little. He had the type of face that lit up with his emotions - _just like me,_ Róisín thought, _and nothing like Snape._ Maybe Eóghan was starting to think she'd lied about the curse preventing them from being together in the first place. She wanted to look up from her essay and tell him that she was sorry, that she wanted him, and no one else, especially not her cruel professor. Instead she kept her eyes trained on her parchment.

"Right then, see ye later," Eóghan said as he got up. When he was out of earshot, Róisín let out a groan.

She spent the next half an hour reading the same passage again and again before shoving her unfinished essay back into her stachel. She pulled out the notes she'd taken in charms class that day, tugging sharply at them as they got caught in her stachel's zip.

Flitwick had reminded them ten times that Healing charms were a guaranteed NEWT question, but his squeaky lecture had been muffled by Róisín's endless imaginings of her potions professor on top of her. Five feet of parchment filled with ida's print-quality handwriting had curled towards Róisín's side of the desk, while Róisín had only jotted down three inches:

* * *

 _Healing Charms_

 _********Incantations********_

 _! **N.B** Greek Origins **N.B** ! …. (Hippocrates c. 300 BC) …_

 _Eg:_

 _ **\- Anapneo - "** I breathe" - **(** clears blocked throat) _

_**\- Episkey** \- from episkevi- "repair"_

 _ **\- Kathartrom -** from katharizo("clear/clean") & trombosis("clotting") - (clears blood clot) (FIRST SPELL FOR HEART ATTACK! - if uneffective use **elektroskey** or -_

 _ **\- Ravo..?(something)** stitching wounds - ask Ida!_

 _*******Wand Movements*******_

 _Injury/Trauma repair:_

 _ **\- Lines** /diagonals _

**-** _NB ( **angle** w.r.t Caster and Target v. important)_

 _ **\- Short**_

 _ **\- Sharp**_

 _Infection/Disease:_

 **-** Smooth/slow/gentle

 **-** … _. (didn't catch 2nd point ask someone)_

 _ **H/W:**_

 _Invent charm to remove splinter. (No plagiarising existing spells, Flitwick's seen them all!)_

* * *

In the corner of the crumpled parchment, Róisín had sketched a few squiggles, which now twisted like snakes up a bedpost.

Snape. Everytime she thought about him something stirred inside her, like she'd eaten too much sugar. All day she'd worried about his legilimency skills. Was the night of the party the first time he'd read her mind? Did he do it the night they'd had sex? Róisín had cringed at the thought so many times that Ida had asked her if she had stomach cramps.

Róisín abandoned her charms notes and got up to search for a book on legilimency. Two hours later, she was finishing the fifth chapter of "Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimency". It was filled with vague terms like "mind's eye", "mindfulness" and "mental landscape". The clock on the wall inched towards ten and Róisín noticed Madam Pince glare at her from behind her desk. The only other student still in the library was Hermione Granger, flipping through a pile of books with alacrity. Róisín scanned the rest of the chapter titles and decided that "clearing one's mind" was the main idea. Whatever that meant. She carefully replaced "Protection Charm Your Mind" and headed back to her dormitory.

* * *

The suds from Róisín's shampoo slid around her breasts towards her belly button. The hot tap of the shower was fully open and her skin had turned pink. She paused from scrubbing under her arms to tug at an inch of fat on her hips. " _Barely five foot with overtly feminine proportions"_ was how Snape had described her. She squirmed at the memory. Did he find her at all attractive?

Apparently Kun didn't. He'd just wanted to slip her veritaserum. But why? An evil Slytherin plot to capture her and bring her to You-Know-Who? Róisín whipped her head towards the door of the bathroom, picturing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named smashing through it. She whispered " _colloportus"_ and the door rattled, already locked. Not that _He_ wouldn't know _alohomora_. But still. It was something.

Róisín sighed. Eóghan had wanted her. She'd wanted him too. She balanced on one slippery foot to wash the other. She couldn't have Eóghan though, apparently the sióg side of her wanted a more powerful wizard. Like Snape.

She had to admit she found Snape attractive, terrifying, but attractive. And sexy. The way he flicked his wrist, causally performing powerful magic, the effortless way he kept his class silent, his low, smooth voice. Róisín squeezed her thighs together as she ran her hands through her hair. She remembered how he'd dueled in Defence, how easily he'd defeated Ida, Anna and herself. He wasn't handsome, but Róisín didn't care. And his lean body… she dropped her sponge and her hand slipped between her legs. The way his finger had felt inside her, making that delicious feeling coil tighter and tighter. Her legs and bum tensed hard and she pressed her other hand against the cold, soapy tiles to keep herself standing. It'd be easier to finish lying down, she could get in to bed and… _No_ \- she'd be late. She picked up the sponge and started scrubbing harder than before.

She didn't even know if she _liked_ Snape; he made his students cry for tiny mistakes; he'd humiliated her when he'd caught her looking at Kun; he'd lied to her about obliviating Ida. Rumours were he used to support You-Know-Who when he was young, which meant he probably looked down on _mudbloods_ like her. Maybe that was why he was reluctant to have sex with her?

 _Ugh_. If only she could lobotomize the part of her brain that made her feel so feckin' horny.

At half past ten, Róisín slipped out of her room. She found a fireplace in a side-turret off Ravenclaw tower. After re-checking there was no one hidden behind the stacks of books, she cast _incendio_ and emptied the floo powder into the flames. Then she crouched and climbed into them.

"Sala-" she began.

A silver face with high cheekbones peered from behind a row of books. Róisín froze. Helena Ravenclaw, the Ravenclaw ghost, stared at her with pale gray eyes. "S-Snackers staircase," Róisín corrected quickly. Everything started to spin. Róisín gritted her teeth and prayed the address would take her somewhere. Glimpses of Hogwarts zoomed by; chess pieces battling, woven lions snoozing, a blackboard covered in shapes, a thin figure with a pointy hat, mountains of objects, Peeves squirting a bottle of goo, students playing gobstones, rows of desks, shelves of books, statues, broomsticks, _Ow!_ Róisín's funny bone knocked against something sharp… black and yellow armchairs, billows of steam, elves… Then it stopped. Walls surrounded Róisín on all sides, like she were in an upright brick coffin.

 _Fuck! A sealed fireplace!_

Her stomach felt like wrung cloth. She wriggled against the walls, grazing her knuckles as she reached behind her and fidgeted for her wand in her back pocket. It wasn't there. She must've left it in her robes. _I might run out of air._ She pounded her fists against the bricks, shouting,

" _Depulso!"_

The bricks in front of her burst into pieces and Róisín winced as shards hit her face. Behind them was solid granite. She squeezed around and shouted " _Depulso!"_ again. Bricks flew away to reveal a dusty classroom. Róisín climbed out around the rubble and hurried from the room, patting her hands on her clothes while muttering " _tergeo"_ to get rid of the dust. In the corridor, the air was sweet with the smell of baking, so she was near the kitchens.

Footsteps.

Róisín froze.

"Ah! I know the answer to this one!" Flitwick's voice squeaked. "To steal the wren's wife!"

Róisín jumped behind a tapestry. Thankfully, the next voice came to her from farther away.

Sprout"s voice replied, "No, Filius, it's not a riddle, a real crow with a tiara, just over Greenhouse four. Isn't that…." Sprout's voice got quieter and disappeared. Róisín hurried on in the opposite direction. A wren, a crow, a tiara… God, her professors were strange.

She found Snacker's staircase and began her descent into the dungeons. Once outside the potion master's office she took a moment to stop panting. Then she knocked.

"Enter."

Róisín stepped inside. Snape was sitting at his desk marking papers. He didn't bother to look up and greet her. Róisín pulled the door closed but it got stuck, as if by a door stopper. She gave it another tug and it closed. _Weird._

"Since you've ignored my request to floo to my chambers," Snape began as he put his quill down, his voice low and dangerous. "And have instead strolled here like an arrogant hippogriff, I presume you've concluded that being discovered and captured by the Dark Lord is of little concern to you."

Róisín hesitated. She didn't want to tell him she'd trapped herself in a chimney.

"All the fireplaces in Ravenclaw tower had people near them, sir."

"Next time, disillusion yourself."

 _Next time._

Róisín bit her lip and nodded.

Snape stood and wandlessly opened the passage to his quarters. He gestured for Róisín to go first.

Flames sprung to life in the fireplace as Róisín stepped into the vast cavern of Salazar's chambers. Dark curtains were closed over the window to the Black Lake facing the large four-poster bed, whose posts were still charred. Róisín walked farther into the room. She had no idea what to do next.

"Would you -"

"- Should I -" Róisín spoke over Snape and winced. He gestured for her to continue. "No, please, you first sir."

His lips thinned.

"Drop the "sir" for tonight." He walked to a wardrobe in the corner of the room, taking off his outer robes as he went. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, his tone polite but cold. Róisín watched his hands move down the buttons of his frock coat. "Miss Feral?" Her eyes popped back to his.

"Em, no sir, I'm ok." Snape raised an eyebrow. Róisín had called him "sir" again. "Sorry," she muttered. His frock coat followed his robe into the wardrobe. Underneath he wore a white shirt. Róisín turned away and pulled her jumper over her head, flinging her hand down to keep her t-shirt from riding up with it.

"How is your magic today?" Snape asked.

"It's- I've been trying not to use it too much since it's a little… shaky." Róisín's voice was muffled by her jumper, which wasn't stretching over her head. It's collar seemed to be getting smaller, tightening on her neck. " _Engorgio!"_ she whispered, panicking, but it only tightened.

Then it was gone. Róisín, disorientated, turned back to her professor. He was holding her jumper in his hands.

"You're nervous," he stated.

"What-" Róisín began. He held up her jumper to punctuate his point. It was half its original size. Róisín's hand went to her mouth. "I did that with my magic?"

"Evidently."

"But why?"

"Presumably to slow proceedings," he answered cooly.

"But I thought- I thought my magic wanted this."

"Your magic can't _want_ anything," he replied. Róisín waited for him to explain further, but instead he _engorgio'd_ her jumper back to its original size and threw it to her. He crouched to remove his boots. Róisín copied him, going to her knees to untie her runners. She normally kicked them off, so the knots had not been undone in months and were very tight. She tried to concentrate on getting her nails to catch under the lace and loosen them.

The silence was awful.

"Sir, I thought- I'm sorry, this is a stupid question, but if my magic can't _want_ anything, why do we have to… " she trailed off. Snape was standing again, unbuttoning his shirt. Róisín could see the line where his pectoral muscles dipped to meet his sternum. "...Why is my magic unstable?" she finished, quickly dropping her attention back to her runners. She pulled them off with the laces still tied.

"It doesn't mean that your magic is literally "unstable"," Snape corrected in the same sneering tone he'd used in potions that day to inform a horrified Gryffindor that "swaddled babies" was the name of a flower. He pulled off his shirt and hung it up, a deep crease forming between the muscle of his arm and his shoulder as he stretched. "Magic can't be stable or unstable, it just _is._ A part of you that plays a role in controlling your magic is stressed and is acting out." Róisín could feel her chest inflating and deflating as she listened. Was she imagining the slight dampening of her underarms? She pressed them to her sides. Snape had stopped undressing and was in just his trousers with bare feet. There was black hair on his long toes. He continued, "Because you're a sióg, the part of you that is not handling your magic well is your lust. Most likely."

Róisín was hot. She was wearing a long-sleeve t-shirt with a vest underneath, but she didn't want to take it off. Snape, standing shirtless in front of her without a pinch of fat, was making her feel flabby.

He waved his hand and the fire died. It was now so quiet Róisín could hear herself breathe.

"You're too warm," he explained.

Did she look hot? Or had he read her mind?

"Most likely, sir?" Roisín asked.

"It's only been two weeks since you were last here. Your control of your magic slipped sooner than I'd anticipated," he said. "It could be that your lust is not the cause -"

"That I'm not a sióg?" Róisín suggested.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "No, I'm certain you're a sióg," he said. "However, it could be stress that is causing you to lose control of your magic this time, as I presume you're not experiencing the other symptoms?"

Róisín hesitated. She hadn't had her period recently, so she hadn't had period pain, but she had been daydreaming a lot about _certain_ activities-

Snape's eyebrows raised. "Or you have been. It's also possible that your symptoms are more frequent because your sióg.. _issues_ manifested at such a late stage."

"A late stage?"

"Most show signs at around fifteen."

She had been almost nineteen, Róisín thought. Although the other signs, a high libido and painful menstruations had been there before, she just hadn't gone around advertising them.

Róisín had been careful to avoid Snape's eyes, in case his legilimency worked like a Wampus cat's, and found herself instead staring at where his trousers hung from his narrow hips. She blinked and looked back at his face.

"How come you know so much about sióga, professor?" she asked.

For a moment, Snape's jaw locked so tight Róisín's own teeth hurt just by looking at it.

"Are you still sore?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Oh no, it stopped hurting after you gave me that potion the next day, " Róisín replied.

 _Did Snape just wince?_

"From the injuries you sustained Saturday night," he clarified. Róisín blushed.

"Oh, yeah of course, sorry." She'd thought he was referring to the pain she'd had after they'd had sex. She spoke quickly, to clear the air of her blunder, "I have a few bruises, nothing serious. You did an amazing job healing me, thank you." Her eyes had flicked up to his and she dragged them away. Remembering chapter two, "Step 2: Clearing your mind", she tried to think of nothing.

"I hope your blank stare and blatant lack of eye contact is not your attempt at the ancient art of occlumency, Miss Feral." Róisín's eyes shot back up to Snape's. Before she could fight it, her thoughts began to unravel, like thread from a spool; his hands on her thigh, healing her… brick walls on all sides... his deep, low " _mutafidus"_... the sharp pain of him entering her... his mouth around his finger... dancing, pressed against Kun… Snape's scarred chest... vomiting a thick batter of chocolate... his weight on top of her... her hands beneath the sheets... " _unfortunately not everything is under my control"_... the tip of his wand trailing down her body...

She shut her eyes tight.

"I understand you don't like when I access your thoughts," Snape said, his voice cool as silk, "but it is difficult not to when you throw them at me like that. If you wish to protect yourself from a legilimens, either stay away from them or take the time to study occlumency correctly. The overt tactics you are attempting will only make a legilimens curious when they may otherwise not be."

Róisín tried to look at Snape normally, but, legilimens or not, she tended to avoid eye contact with people who intimidated her.

"Is there anything I can do now, sir, to stop "throwing my thoughts" at you?" she asked, a bold edge to her voice.

"I won't use legilimency on you tonight," Snape answered.

Róisín didn't believe him.

"You can believe me," he added.

 _He_ _ **just**_ _said he wouldn't-_

"I didn't read your mind, I read your expression."

He took a step towards Róisín and she stilled. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

 _Of course I am!_

"A little."

"You're white as a sheet."

Róisín stopped biting her lip to say,

"I'm afraid of setting something alight again."

Snape smiled, and not in an I'm-about-to-deduct-points-from-Gryffindor kind of way. It was a warm smile. Then his face slipped into its usual mask and he asked,

"Are you worried it will hurt?"

Róisín thought of the feeling of him inside her, like she had every night since. It had felt strange and sexy but also stingy and painful. Her throat tightened. She was about to shake her head but nodded instead.

"Will I get a pain relief potion?" he asked. Róisín hesitated and Snape added, "I was concerned that its effects would interfere with the magic of the coupling, but after last time I decided it was worth the risk."

"Em, ok, I'll take it then."

" _Accio Chalarotiki_ potion," Snape muttered.

A vial sailed into the room. It curved towards Snape just as there was a "thump" near the passageway.

" _Homenum Revelio!"_ Snape bellowed. There was a flash of light as Róisín was punched in the gut and thrown across the room, her back walloping against the side of the bed. Snape lunged and pinned a skinny figure who had appeared out of nowhere against the wall, the tip of his wand pressed hard against its throat. Snape's other hand grabbed its collar and tugged up so hard that its feet no longer touched the ground. It made a gurgly, choking sound. It had black hair sticking up in all directions.

It was Harry Potter.

"Enjoying the show, Potter?" Snape spat, so close to his face he could kiss him. "First you slip into my pensieve and now you sneak into my _fucking chambers_?" The muscles of Snape's naked upper body were taut with fury. Potter rasped and reached in vain for his wand on the floor, the tendons in his hands popping with the effort. "You disgusting, arrogant, little prick," Snape growled and shoved him, his skull knocking with a thud against the stone behind. Róisín tried to cry out but was so winded no sound escaped.

Potter's face was turning purple. Róisín struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on her hands as her legs were wobbling. A lazy flick of Snape's wand pushed her back to her knees. Snape released his grip on Potter's collar and the Boy-Who-Lived collapsed onto the ground, coughing. He lunged for his wand but Snape flicked his wrist again and the wand skidded away.

" _Incarcerous,"_ Snape snarled. Thick ropes slithered from mid-air and wound themselves around Potter, who kicked and swung against them.

"You fucking scum!" Potter spluttered, equally enraged, the ropes pinning his arms to his sides. "I _knew_ you were raping her! I FUCKING KNEW IT!"

"You know NOTHING!" Snape roared. "You're brash and stupid and cocky, just like your vile father. I should've destroyed that bloody map when I first found you with it, stomping around the castle like you owned the place."

Potter's wand was in a far corner of the room. Róisín began to crawl towards it, her head ringing. Nothing made sense. Why was _Harry Potter_ in Snape's chambers? How did he get here? What was a _pensieve?_ What map was he talking about?

"Don't. Move."

Róisín froze. Snape's eyes were latched on Potter but it was clear his cool command was directed at her.

"If you believed I were going to assault Miss Feral why didn't you confront me," Snape asked, his voice oozing scorn, "The valiant Gryffindor that you are, instead of hiding and watching like a pervert?"

Potter spoke through bared teeth, still squirming against the ropes,

"I needed -" He huffed for breath, "I - I needed to make sure-"

"You required absolute proof did you? Before you offered your services? Wanted to be _completely_ certain you had enough evidence to condemn me before you risked your neck? Tell me, Potter, do you get off on watching people suffer, like your late father and pathetic Godfather?"

"Don't… talk... about-"

"-I'll talk about whomever I want to talk about," Snape spat. The ropes twisted tighter and Potter writhed against them, his fists and arms white from lack of blood. "You have no idea what you've done, you fool," Snape said as he raised his wand. Potter and the ropes levitated at its command and hovered in the air. "The Headmaster has ordered me to protect Miss Feral but your arrogance has put her in grave danger."

" _ **I**_ put her in danger? You greasy-" Potter shouted.

"-What you know **He** knows! If you'd taken a break from being a self-righteous little prick long enough to ask the Headmaster about your suspicions," Snape said. "He would've told you that Miss Feral was being looked after and that she is none of your concern. She is certainly _not_ another damsel for you to save."

"Oh, and _you're_ the one looking after her," Harry hissed from the air, " _YOU'RE_ the one saving her, are you? She's SHAKING with fear! Two weeks ago I saw your feet IN-BETWEEN hers! And now you're half naked! What were you doing?" he continued sarcastically, "Saving her with your c- "

Potter's voice was cut-off with a _silencio_ from Snape, but his lips mouthed the obscenity. Snape stepped back, stretched his head to each side and twiddled the fingers of his wand hand lazily, as if he had all the time in the world to watch the famous Gryffindor wriggle in the air. Now composed, he stated cooly,

" _Petrificus Totalus"_

Potter dropped.

Róisín's winced as she waited for his dead weight to hit the floor but Snape's _mobilicorpus_ caught him just in time. The ropes disappeared. Snape turned abruptly and Róisín cowered. Her professor flinched, then his lips thinned with mild annoyance. He stepped towards her and held out a hand.

"Are you hurt?" he asked stiffly.

Róisín shivered. She was drenched in sweat. This man had just violently attacked a teenage boy and then offered her his hand. She could lunge for his wand but - He raised it out of reach, flicked it towards Potter and muttered,

" _Muffliato,"_

Then he said,

"I apologise if I hurt you, I needed to get you away from the intruder."

Róisín's whole body shook. She was crying. Snape crouched down to her. His black eyes, which moments ago had been contorted with rage, were narrowed with concern. Róisín hid her face and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm not going to hurt you," he continued, his voice so much softer than usual that Róisín glanced at him from between her fingers to make sure he was still the same man. "Potter," - Snape couldn't seem to help but spit the name - "has a habit of making foolish decisions that put himself and others in danger I-" he paused- "I'll bring Potter to the headmaster." He stood and went to his wardrobe.

"Severus?"

Róisín jumped. The headmaster's voice had come from Snape's office. Snape paused in shrugging on his shirt.

"Yes, headmaster?" he replied tersely.

"May we enter?"

" _We?"_ Snape snapped.

Dumbledore strode into the room, his robes swishing about him. Róisín heard a little gasp.

"As you can see Miss Granger, Harry is perfectly fine," Dumbledore said. "Professor Snape would never harm a student."

The bushy head of Hermione Granger stepped out from the passageway. She glanced with wide eyes from Potter's floating body to Snape, whose shirt was still unbuttoned. With a flourish of his wand, Snape's normal teaching regalia wrapped into place around him, every inch of skin except his face and hands now covered in black. Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"Miss Granger was concerned about Harry's safety and found me in my office. Apparently on several occasions Harry saw yourself and Miss Feral in your quarters on his father's map. Miss Granger had tried to convince him not to do anything rash, however when Mister Weasley informed her that Harry was not in his dormitory she came to me, while Mister Weasley ran to the dungeons to- "

A crash interrupted Dumbledore and a panting Weasley ran into the room, wand brandished and face as red as his hair, still in his stripped Gryffindor pyjamas. His eyes darted around the room and landed on his paralysed best friend.

"How nice of you to join us Weasley," Snape drawled.

"Release him!" Weasley shouted. Snape jerked his wand and Harry fell, his limbs flailing. A purple mattress popped onto the ground and Harry landed on it, scrambling to his feet after a limp bounce.

"ACCIO WAND!" Potter exclaimed and his wand shot across the room into his hand. He waved it frantically between Snape and Róisín. "Professor, he was going to- Snape was going to-"

"Enough," Dumbledore said sternly."It is unacceptable to sneak into a professor's chambers." His voice was quiet but crystal clear. "If you have concerns about the welfare of a student you may report them to myself or your head of house."

Potter's glasses were eschew, distorting his angry green eyes still pinned on Snape. His fists clasped and unclasped by his side.

A yellowed piece of parchment fluttered from the floor into the headmaster's hands, followed by a slinky, colourless cloak. Róisín hadn't noticed them before. "Unfortunately, I can no longer trust you with these," Dumbledore said. Weasley and Granger looked distraught at the confiscation of the two strange items, but all of Potter's attention was on Snape. "Miss Feral is here under my orders, working with Professor Snape on an important task for the Order-"

"Maybe that's what _he's_ told you, but I _saw-_ "

The look Dumbledore sent Potter was brutal, and the boy's stubborn, jutting jaw dipped a fraction.

"It is very late," the headmaster stated icily. "You may return to your dormitory so you are bright and ready for your morning classes."

For a moment, Potter looked like he would defy the headmaster and curse Snape, but instead he stormed from the room. Weasley followed him, the look of perplexion on his face headache inducing. Granger gave Róisín a small nod before leaving. After bidding Snape and Róisín a warm "Good Night" Dumbledore left as well.

Róisín's bum and ankles were sore from sitting on the stone floor, and her back ached where it had hit the bed stand. She rubbed at her face and found it slick with tears. She was suddenly aware that Snape was out of eyeshot, and whipped her head around nervously. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ease a migraine.

"Leave," he stated.

Róisín scrambled to her feet, hurried through the passageway to his office, stepped over the broken shards of Snape's office door and started the long climb back to Ravenclaw tower.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and especially to those who leave reviews! I have every intention of finishing this story so please don't be worried that it will be abandoned. I know I take a long time to update so I appreciate those of you who stick around! Let me know what you think if you get the chance.**


	26. The Fidelius Charm

Snape scowled at the sound of Miss Feral scurrying out of his chambers. He went to his office, _reparo'd_ his door, flung floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames.

"Severus, I-"

"-Oblivate them," Snape ordered. The most powerful wizard alive sat at his desk with his hands steepled beneath his crooked nose. In two long strides Snape closed the distance between them. Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow.

"If you don't **I** will." Snape slammed his fist onto the headmaster's desk. With a creaky groan, a crack appeared in the wood. Both of Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"I see the fabled benefits of lying with a -" The crack grew with another unnatural snap and the headmaster stopped short. "Severus, sit."

Snape didn't move an inch.

"Who specifically are you suggesting I obliviate?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"The whole bloody lot of them."

"Even Miss Feral?"

"Those kids think I'm a bloody rapist! Potter is no doubt delighted, now that his opinions on my person have been vindicated."

"I have decided that Miss Feral will spend the Christmas holidays at Grimmauld Place-"

"-What?"

"Therefore, there is little point in obliviating the Gryffindors." Snape glowered and the crack in the desk stretched farther. "Severus, this desk is ancient and invaluable."

"I don't give a rat's ass about your bloody desk! What will **He** think if he discovers a student is unaccounted for over the holidays?"

"Is he keeping tabs on every student?"

Snape gritted his teeth.

"I don't know. Perhaps. He does not tell me the details of his schemes. I have yet to regain the trust he had in me… before. He is searching for her, but still believes she is of pureblood and younger than Feral. This weekend he has me investigating the old Irish clans in Kerry." Dumbledore nodded in thought. "He is less… assured than before his disappearance," Snape continued. "More troubled, as though some new threat appeared while he was gone."

"Potter?"

"No, something more like-"

"Severus. Do not try to use legilimency on me," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"If I am to oppose him effectively I need to know-"

"I have told you everything you need to know."

"I know what that diary was. He did not leave it to continue Salazar's legacy. He does not care about anyone's legacy but his own. If we're right, because I know you believe it too, then whatever possessed Mister Kun is another one. Like the diary. And just like the diary, it is capable of written communication. We need to find it and destroy it."

"As head of the order, I am taking the necessary steps to defeat Voldemort." Dumbledore's gaze held steady as Snape's jaw clenched. "What of Rookwood?"

"Still no contact that I am aware of."

"Do you believe he fled?"

"That would be out of character."

"Azkaban changes a man."

"Indeed."

Dumbledore stood and asked,

"How do you feel about having me as your secret keeper?"

Snape frowned,

"For which secret?"

"Miss Feral. We need the Order's help with her."

"You don't mean-" Snape began with disgust.

"No of course not. Just for her protection. I would not burden her with more than one suitor. Your intervention was effective, no?"

"I believe so," Snape muttered. "Minerva will be here over the break, are you suggesting she isn't capable of watching a young-"

"Yourself, Remus and myself will be gone, the deputy headmistress will have the entire castle to protect. Headquarters is the safest place for Miss Feral over the break, and to protect her, the Order need to know who she is."

"Are fifteen year olds now allowed to join? Because otherwise there is no reason the Gryffindors should know."

"Alas, Miss Granger has already figured it out."

"Of course she has, the brat. Tell me, did she steal more of my boomslang skin for her latest reconnaissance mission?"

"Do not speak ill of my students, Severus."

"What about Potter's connection to the Dark Lord? What if **He** sees Feral in Potter's mind?"

"Well, I would suggest spending less time lambasting Harry and more time teaching him Occlumency."

It took all of Snape's restraint not to blast Dumbledore's precious desk to pieces. He took out his wand.

"Do you remember the fidelius charm incantation?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course."

"Then let us begin."

* * *

Róisín panted in her dark bedroom, her shaking wand pointed at the closed door. Snape's snarling voice, "Now you sneak into my _fucking chambers!"_ rang in her ears.

" _Colloportus_!" she whispered. Her wand spat and the door rattled.

Why did Snape despise Potter?

Outside, a shadow swept across the Dark Forest. Róisín stilled. It looked too big to be a crow. Maybe a raven.

If Potter hadn't broken into Snape's chambers, she would be having sex right now.

She needed to pee. She sat on the toilet with the bathroom door open so she could keep an eye on the door and window to her room, her wand still brandished in her hand. When she was done, she washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face.

Why did the headmaster trust Snape?

Dumbledore had said Snape was thirty-five. That meant he'd been a student in Slytherin while Death Eaters were still at Hogwarts. Had he shared their views? Had he sat around the fire in the Slytherin common room discussing the solution to _Mudbloods_ like her?

She looked around for her jumper. _Fuck!_ She'd left it in Snape's chambers. Grabbing another, she went to her mirror and _disillusioned_ herself. Her whole body turned a swirling shade of ruby. Ugh! Was she capable of performing _any_ useful spells anymore? She tried again. This time, half of her body took on the indigo of the sky outside her window and the other half matched her bedroom wall. Johnny Depp's dark eyes from a poster stared from her cheeks, and her hair was pink and blue tartan, matching an Edinburgh Pixies' scarf - Eóghan's favourite Quidditch team - pinned behind her.

She ran through the seven rules of defensive duelling in her head before setting off towards the main Hogwarts library.

* * *

Her wand lit with a pink lumos, Róisín tiptoed up and down the Modern History section. The colour of the light made it difficult to read the sides of the books and reminded her that she had unfinished business with Snape. The light shook as she shivered.

She found general histories on the last wizarding war but couldn't find detailed information on the Death Eaters. The iron bars of the Restricted Section winked at her. Glancing around, she _alohomora'd_ the locks and chains around the entrance and stepped inside.

The rest of the library smelt like books and candles, but here, it smelt like an old shed where a rat had died. The ancient tomes stirred as Róisín walked by them, and she had to jump back when a black, leather tongue whipped out from a book that was bound by three ancient padlocks.

There,

 _The Death Eater Trials 1971 - 1984 Vol.1_

And right beside it, _The Death Eater Trials 1985 - 1988 Vol.2,_ it's title in the same square, official-looking font as the first. Róisín cast a series of charms she had learnt from Professor Smith in the Department for Bedevilled and Blighted Magical Artefacts. One of the charms detected a mild fear fungus, but otherwise they confirmed the book was safe to touch. After removing the fungus, which Róisín presumed had spread from " _Defining Terror - The Unforgivable Battle of 1611",_ she carefully took the _Trials_ from the shelf and sat in a corner on the floor.

* * *

Snape twisted his wand between his fingers, feeling it's warmth from the magic of the Fidelius charm. Dumbledore recited the final words that bound the secret to his soul and said,

"Now Miss Feral is safer."

"Because I cannot betray her to the Dark Lord?" Snape muttered.

"Severus, I know you are a better man than that."

"It's my fault she's in danger in the first place."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"I said you _are_ a better man, not that you have always been."

A moment passed where neither said anything.

"May I borrow the map to watch out for her?" Snape asked.

"You may, however if I see the rest of the houses trailing behind because of your new-found ability to catch students frollicking outside of hours-"

"- I will not use the map to apprehend misbehaving students, I will only use it to confirm Feral's safety. Besides, it is impossible for Slytherin to catch up-"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted sternly. "I chose not to replicate that map because I believe my students deserve the right to privacy, I am adamant that it not be used to enforce rules."

"Understood," Snape said. "The cloak would also prove useful for when Feral has to-" he hesitated- "visit me."

Dumbledore summoned both of the items and handed them to Snape.

"On that note," he said, "Do not let Potter's misadventure tonight get in the way of your duty to Miss Feral. The password for the map is: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Dumbledore rubbed his temple, looking alarming old. "Good night Severus."

"Headmaster," Snape acknowledged with a nod. He left through the door to the spiral staircase, unfolding the Marauder's map as he did so.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, I'm so sorry for how long this update took. I know what it's like to wait for an update to a story you're following and how frustrating it can be! This is a short chapter but I promise the next one is almost ready :)**


	27. Grindelwald's Charm

Róisín coughed and felt the weight of the damp air slide into her lungs. The cold floor of the Restricted Section was not a cozy place to read. The first two pages of _The Trials of the Death Eaters Vol.1_ contained a list of names of the accused and the corresponding pages with their court records. Róisín's eyes slid down the list.

.

.

 _._

 _Merton Blackwood...22/12/1980...pg. 359-384_

 _Igor Karkaroff...5/9/1981...pg. 385-431_

 _Antonin Dolohov...20/9/1981...pg. 432-510_

 _Leroy Montague...27/9/1981...pg. 511-572_

 _Garrick Selwyn...1/10/1981...pg. 573-591_

 _Blythe Harlow...5/10/1981...pg. 592-605_

 _Barwolf Axton...23/10/1981...pg. 606-639_

 _Walden Macnair...27/10/1981...pg. 640-700_

 _Thiebaut Marchand...2/12/1981...pg. 701-719_

 _Thorfinn Rowle...10/12/1981...pg. 720-787_

 _Sirius Black...16/12/1981...pg. 788-793_

 _Rolant Travers...20/12/1981...pg. 794-820_

 _Osmont Mulciber...28/12/1981...pg. 821-832_

 _Norval Avery...4/1/1982...pg. 833-870_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Her gaze jumped back up. _Sirius Black_. He was the wizard still at large. The first person ever to escape Azkaban, followed recently by Rookwood, who after scanning the rest of the list, Róisín decided was in volume two.

Had Black taught Rookwood how to escape?

Róisín flicked to page 788.

 _ **Sirius Black**_

 _Born: 3/11/1959_

 _ **Sentenced to life in Azkaban without trial in Wizard Court.**_

Róisín's hand raised to cover her mouth as she read. In the sentencing records, muggles described how twelve of their peers were blown to pieces and Cornelius Fudge himself testified to Black laughing maniacally at the scene of the crime, surrounded by bodies. Róisín turned the page,

 _ **The Twelve Muggle Victims**_

 _ **Sally Addington, age 15, John Brent, age 35, Alison Brown, age 20, Robert Clark, age 57**_ \- CLANG

The noise was followed by a BANG as the Trials of the Death Eaters Vol. 1 exploded. Róisín whipped her stinging hands away. Pages fluttered to the ground.

A tall black-clad figure stood in front of her.

Róisín scrambled to her feet.

"Sorry, Professor, I-I was reading."

"And wanted to destroy the evidence?" Snape eyes flicked to the scraps of pages littered around her.

"Oh, that was me?"

" _Liber reparo"_

The papers flew together and the repaired book landed in Snape's hands. Róisín winced as he read the title.

"Do you feel vulnerable?" He asked, his voice unnervingly quiet. He replaced the book on the shelf.

Róisín swallowed. "I-"

"You are alone and defenceless, in an isolated part of the castle in the middle of the night. Do you have any sense of what a dark wizard would do to find you, what he would do once he had you?"

Róisín's throat tightened.

"Come," Snape ordered.

Róisín followed him through the library. She jumped as the gate to the restricted section swung shut behind them with another clang. Snape turned towards her and Róisín let out a squeak at his sudden movement. A book exploded overhead.

"Could. You. Control. Yourself," Snape spat at her. He whipped out his wand and muttered, " _Liber reparo"._ Róisín took a step backwards,

"Sorry, sir, I-"

"Stay still. The crimes shelf is ridden with fear fungus." Snape flicked his wand at her and muttered in Greek. His brow creased.

"Sir, I em, I think I got rid of the fungus," Róisín said.

"What spell did you use?"

" _Ekapsa Mykita"_

Snape turned on his heel and Róisín had to trot to keep up with his long strides.

"Put on this." He thrust a piece of fabric at her. It felt like water but left her hands dry. Róisín recognised it; it was the same cloth Dumbledore had confiscated from Potter. She wrapped it around herself and gasped. Her body had disappeared. So this was how Potter snuck into Snape's chambers.

"Cover your head," Snape ordered. Róisín ducked under the cloak and shivered. It felt like dipping into a cool spring.

Snape headed towards the west of the castle. He took out an old piece of parchment, looked at it, and turned into a classroom. Róisín followed and Snape shut the door. His eyes swept around her before he muttered,

"Take off the cloak."

Róisín threw it off. Snape took a step back, as though he hadn't expected her to be so close. Róisín twisted the silk in her hands.

"Your magic is clearly unstable," Snape stated. He lent with one long arm against the back of a chair. "I know it is late but I cannot leave you in your current state. I can either put you under a stasis charm or we could go back to the dungeons."

Róisín's eyes widened. She had heard of the stasis charm in History of Magic, also called "Grindelwald's charm" it was used by the infamous wizard to control his most unruly followers.

"You can cast a stasis?" Róisín asked, unable to hide her disbelief.

"That is what I said, yes. Do you know what it does?"

"Em, doesn't it keep a wizard's magic from working in the world around it? By confining it to the air around them?"

"A stasis charm puts a sphere around a person which the magic cast from within has difficulty leaking through." Snape flicked his wrist and a wave of cool air washed over them. "You're experiencing spontaneous outbursts of magic tied with your emotions. A stasis would help control them, however to be put under one is reportedly unpleasant."

"Does it hurt?" Róisín asked.

"I don't believe so. However I have heard it's unsettling and I will only be able to cast it if you're willing to be put under it."

"Em, what was the other option you said?"

Snape's adam's apple bobbed and his jaw tensed.

"I said we could go back to my chambers."

"Oh." A desk on the far side of the room popped like a balloon into shards of wood. Róisín winced. Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He _repario'd_ the desk without turning around.

"That answers that question," he muttered. The heat in Róisín's cheeks was like a furnace. "I expect you will last only a day or two under the stasis," Snape continued, "After which you will have to come to me."

"Why didn't you cast the stasis charm on me before?" Róisín asked.

"It's only a temporary solution."

"Oh."

"And I only recently mastered it. There are three stages to the enchantments, but it should take only five minutes to complete."

It felt longer with Snape staring at her and pacing around her, speaking in dead languages while his magic did funny things to her insides. Finally, he lowered his wand. At the beginning of the incantation Róisín felt like there was a fly buzzing by her ear and by the end it felt like her head was in a wasps' nest. Snape looked her up and down before stating,

"I'll accompany you to your common room."

Róisín put back on the cloak and followed him out of the classroom. He took the steps from the library corridor to the second floor two at a time and Róisín took deep breaths as she tried to keep up. She felt like she were wearing itchy wool all over. On Boris the Bewildered's fifth floor corridor, just as they passed his muttering statue, Róisín realised she was scratching at her arms and stomach. She clutched the cloak tighter around herself and clenched her teeth.

The Ravenclaw staircase spiralled up and up seemingly without end. Róisín could feel the magic the stasis charm trapped niggling at her skin. Snape was now a dozen steps ahead of her. Her foot missed a step.

A spell caught her before she hit the stone steps. Snape's arm was around her, steadying her to her feet.

"Is the stasis tolerable?" he asked.

"It's a little weird," Róisín whispered, overly aware of the feeling of him against her. Snape stepped away from her and accio'd the cloak which had landed a few steps behind.

"Do you need me to reverse it?" he asked.

"Em, no I'll be ok sir."

The air around her hissed.

Snape gestured for her to go ahead and for the rest of their ascent he kept close behind her. Finally they reached the eagle knocker. It narrowed its eyes at Róisín and asked,

"I am found in the most innocent of beasts and the most wicked of men, what am I?"

Róisín bit her lip, trying to concentrate.

"Unicorn blood," Snape answered.

Ugh! She should've gotten that.

The door to the common room opened and Róisín rushed through. Snape called after her quietly but sternly,

"Feral." She turned back to him. "When you find the stasis too much, go to the classroom behind the statue of Merlin on the third floor." Róisín nodded and rushed up the stairs to her room.

She threw off her clothes and jumped into the shower, turning the cold faucet fully on. She moaned as the freezing water did nothing to ease the tingling in her skin. She got out, grabbed her softest pyjamas and hopped into them on the way to bed, crawled under the covers and let out an indulgent sigh. Her body felt like lead, but she still found herself rubbing against the sheets and twisting the duvet between her palms, her toes creeping up her leg to scratch her legs.

* * *

Pots bubbled in the steamy kitchen. Róisín's mum stirred the stew while she sang,

"I'll tell me ma when I go home, the boys won't leave the girls alone….".

Whiskey barked. A flash of silky red as he wrestled with Brandy, saying no, he wasn't a sheep to be herded.

"Hungry," Róisín moaned, sitting on the floor, tugging at a paw of the red setter while the collie licked her ear. "Hungry." She pulled at mum's sleeve. Dogs growling. Reaching. Splash! Burning. The pot ringing against the tiles. Singing to shrieking. The ringing pot now a silver mask, slithering towards her, twisting with Kun's crooked smile. Ring.

"I _knew_ you were raping her."

Snape took off the mask. Ring. His furious face melted into hundreds of beetles crawling towards her, pincers snaping, up her legs, over her stomach, squeaking and squealing until they almost covered face. RING.

Róisín woke. Her alarm was ringing. She reached across to slap it, her skin stinging as it rubbed against the sheets. She dragged open her eyes, and the details of the dream vanished as she sat up, although an unease clung to her like a bad smell. Her fingers rubbed against the scar on her hand from when she had spilt boiling water as a child. The fingers turned more violent and she was scratching again.

It was Tuesday. Róisín had Runes then double Transfig until lunch, but she couldn't go to class, her classmates would think she had fleas. Also, since the stasis charm stopped her magic from leaking, would it prevent her from intentionally casting spells too? She pointed her wand at her bag and said,

"Accio Satchel"

It was a mistake. For a second, it felt like she were on fire. The bag did a little hop in her direction, then lay still.


End file.
